Hawksong: MW
by Peregrinefalcon47
Summary: The classic tale of love and war between the avians and the serpiente...with a modern twist. Rated T for firefights, blood, and death.
1. Xavier

**A/N:** I do not own Amelia Atwater-Rhodes' Kiesha'ra book series.

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><p><strong>Hawksong: Modern Warfare<strong>

My breathing was steady, controlled. In and out, in and out. I gripped the barrel of my rifle tightly as I proceeded into the fire zone.

The smell was overpowering. Avian blood, splattered and smeared in the dirt and grass, mingled with serpiente blood to create a ghastly odor. A fire had raged earlier in the forest to my left—the acrid smell of burning wood was strong. Alongside the smell of fire was that of steal, of lead, of charred and broken metal scattered throughout the battlefield. And above all was the smell of gunpowder, freshly ignited just moments ago in the heated firefight.

I heard a strangled cry from the forest to my left, then the sharp crack of a rifle. The crack resounded through the area; it sounded like a high-powered rifle, perhaps a .50 caliber.

I jogged into the trees. After a half minute, I looked up to see an image that would forever be imprinted into my skull.

"Oh, god no! Xavier!"

His body lay there, curled up beneath a tree. Golden hair covered his pale forehead. He was completely pale, the blood leaked out of him through the six bullet holes in his chest. He was dead, just like my sister and father, like my aunts, uncles, and friends. He was dead, and there was nothing I could do about it.

_I was the last child._

I had emotional constipation. I should've cried, wanted to cry, _needed_ to cry. Yet my eyes were as dry as the forest underbrush in the summer. I did not cry, or wail, or scream out my pain. Not here. Not on the front lines.

_Front lines._ I looked up. Lying behind his body was Xavier's rifle. It was huge: a massive, .50 caliber Barret M29 anti-vehicular sniper rifle. The thing stretched six feet from butt to muzzle, completely dwarfing the M14 hunting rifle in my hands. I reached out and stroked the weapon. The barrel was warm. The shot I heard from outside the forest was from this gun.

I gazed longingly at Xavier's eyelids, wishing them to flutter open, wishing my beloved brother to come back to life. Nothing happened. Wishing never got me anywhere.

"Take him home," I ordered.

"You should come home too, Shardae."

I turned around. Andreios stood behind me, his assault rifle in hand, along with an elite flight from the avian army. All of them had their assault rifles ready. We were vulnerable this far behind enemy lines.

"I won't be here long. Just wanna secure the area."

I heard another yell come from deeper in the trees. Andreios caught my arm. "There's no need for that one."

I would have agreed with him under normal circumstances. But, after walking these bloody battlefields for hours and helplessly watching both friends and foes die slow deaths, I didn't want to abandon another soul.

"Why not?" I demanded.

I heaved up Xavier's rifle—_damn,_ it was heavy—and slung it across my shoulder. Then, I started toward the sound, practically shoving Andreios out of the way.

"I'll be back shortly."

I left Andreios and his squad to stare dumbly at me as I proceeded through the trees. I heard a moan come from nearby, and out of habit I lifted my rifle to my shoulder and scanned the area for hostiles. There were none. The only person in the vicinity was a man slumped against a rock.

At first, I didn't recognize him. But when I saw his jet black hair and the deep garnet color of his pained eyes, I immediately identified him. Gregory Cobriana. Serpiente royalty. My enemy.

Right now, however, I felt no anger toward him, toward what his kind did to my people and family. I was tired. I felt like a robot underneath my layer of avian reserve.

As soon as I began walking toward him, the serpiente prince stopped his cries for help and focused his garnet eyes on me. I thought I would've frozen on the spot—all the myths said staring directly into a serpiente's eyes meant instant paralysis. Somehow, though, I continued forward until I was beside Gregory. I knelt.

Aside from a few cuts and bruises, Gregory didn't have any other major injuries except for the gigantic hole in his stomach. The hole that my brother no doubt shot in him while trying to defend himself. I was amazed Gregory was still alive after being shot by the .50 caliber. Xavier's rifle was designed to shoot through the armor plating of serpiente Humvees and tanks. By all rights, Gregory's innards should have been strewn everywhere. Yet the hole seemed pretty clean cut, at least by comparative standards.

Why Xavier's shot didn't kill Gregory was not the main priority. The main priority was deciding whether to kill Gregory now, or let him suffer.

Gregory deserved to suffer and die a slow death, considering all the things his fellow snakes had done to us. But, watching his agony, I couldn't summon the rage to leave him where he was. I was compelled to end his life now, compelled to take him out of this hellish world of war and hatred.

As if reading my mind, Gregory whispered, "End it. Now."

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth, preparing myself to do the deed. Reluctantly, I reached my right hand to my hip and retrieved the 9 millimeter handgun holstered there. I took it out and put it to Gregory's chest.

"Hey!"

The shout shocked me to my legs. I pointed my pistol around, searching for the person who shouted it.

"Hawk," I heard the prince whisper mockingly. I wanted to whip back around, but my reflexes weren't as fast as a snake's. I was a second too late.

While I was searching for the hostile, Gregory had taken out his own silenced pistol. He was pointing it at my chest.

It had been a trap, right from the start.

I barely had time to dive backwards before the bullets started flying. In his near-death condition, Gregory didn't even have the ability to shoot me at point-blank range. Instead, the bullets whizzed past my body and legs as I dove behind a tree for cover.

The sound of a gunfight really got Andreios's attention. He and his squad stormed toward me, firing their guns at the serpiente soldiers I had failed to notice earlier. Andreios was shouting for me to get down, when I heard the returning fire of the serpiente's silenced weapons.

No time to retrieve my rifle, which I had set next to Gregory and forgotten to pick up when the shooting started. I only had my handgun. There were 15 rounds in the magazine. I hadn't packed more ammunition because this wasn't supposed to be a long excursion.

I peaked around the trunk. Gregory was slumped against the rock, his chest already riddled with bullets. Past him, I counted four serpiente firing through the trees. I heard the quiet pings of silenced pistols as well as the louder rapping noises of silenced sub-machine guns. They were armed and fighting back hard. Still, I was thankful that none of them had a shotgun.

Andreios and his squad took cover beside me. A barrage of bullets flew toward us. I stuck my pistol out and fired at the nearest enemy. He seemed about fifty feet away, but it was hard to hit him through the shadows and eaves of the trees and brush. I fired eight rounds. I don't think any of them hit.

I hid behind my tree and stayed there until the firefight ended. It was probably only a minute or two, but it felt like an hour to me. When all I heard was the panting of Andreios's squad, I risked a second peak. All four of the serpiente soldiers were down.

"Dani, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Andreios yelled as he ran up to me. He looked intimidating—an avian man with an M4 Carbine running towards a girl with nothing but a handgun. The worry in his face, however, brought me back to earth.

"You could've gotten yourself killed there!"

"I couldn't just leave Gregory Cobriana to die like that, Andreios. No one should die like that."

"He wasn't dying if he could plan an ambush like that."

I couldn't say anything against that. I had almost joined Gregory.

Still, the pain in his eyes. The hole in his chest—or holes, now. The torture he was going through was palpable.

But, once again, there was nothing I could do. Gregory was dead, and so were four of his comrades.

Somberly, I walked over to his body and picked up my rifle where I had left it. It remained unscathed. I gazed up at Gregory's body, now little more than a carcass. The horrors, the brutalities of the war…

I couldn't even look Andreios in the eyes as I holstered my weapons and said, "Alright. Let's head back."

We took off into the air—a golden hawk, a crow, and several ravens, all with guns strapped to their backs. We turned back toward the capital city, leaving the smoldering front lines in our wake.

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><p><strong>AN:** Just to be clear. This story has no connection to the actual Modern Warfare game from the Call of Duty game franchise. Some of the weapons mentioned in this Fanfic are based off of real weapons; however, none of it is solid, proven fact. The "Modern Warfare" title is just a reference to the changed time period of the story from the traditional setting of Hawksong.

Just clearing things up. :)


	2. Tayin'Kurtze

Welcome to the capital city of the avian empire, otherwise known as Tayin'kurtze. Population: 20 million.

Towering skyscrapers of steel and iron rose up from the grassy highlands below. Forest girdled the metropolis, while lone stands of trees popped up occasionally in parks and yards. Weaving through the city were the wind tunnels, the arteries of Tayin'kurtze. Hundreds of thousands of avians effortlessly glided along the canals, merging on and off through connective ducts. Andreios, his squad, and I followed one of these ducts into the main tunnel to the city, the T-25 expressway.

A mass of generators and pumps scattered underneath the city provided the power to the expressway. With it, the sparrows, crows, and ravens could travel for hours at a time with seldom a wing beat. Around bends, collections of vents on the sides of the tunnel redirected the air flow. No flapping or feather adjustment was needed.

I attracted loads of attention once I entered the wind tunnel. All of the commuters knew who I was. The closest ones gave respectful nods and waves in my direction. They were the nice ones. The not-so-nice ones were the demi-form commuters, racing toward me with cameras in hand.

Paparazzi. With a status like mine, you had to expect them to dog me.

Andreios and his crew instantly switched from wartime to civilian bodyguards, keeping the press of the media away from me so that I could at least have some maneuvering space as I flew. They flashed pictures of my golden hawk form and shouted for a quote or two. I didn't say anything. I didn't even acknowledge them. I had learned through experience that anything I said or did would instantly be headlines the next day.

It was hard to be a celebrity, a politician, and a warrior all at once.

We flew quickly, but even so, it still took twenty minutes to reach downtown. There, my bodyguards were finally relieved of their duty as we merged out of the wind tunnel. We left the connective duct and came into full view of the Hawk's Keep.

It was a common saying among the avians that, if the world ended and the sky fell to earth, the Hawk's Keep would be the last sanctuary for survivors. The fortress certainly looked the part. The Keep was 2,015 feet tall, and spanned a total of 150 floors. It was cylindrical at the top and gradually shaped into a rectangle at the bottom. Branching out from the bottom of the Keep was a curved set of buildings, which enclosed a massive garden on the ground floor. Viewed from above, the Hawk's Keep looked, not surprisingly, like a hawk in flight.

My suite was on the top floor, along with my mother's and those of my deceased family members. Beneath these suites were the Royal Flight's barracks and guest rooms reserved for any high-and-mighty officials who might stay the night. Beneath these were the parliament courts and the National Library of the Avian Republic, a vast hall of rows upon rows of books ranging from history books and science tomes to new releases and bestsellers. Offices for government workers took up the levels between the library and the ground floor.

The "wings" of the Keep housed two more additions. The east "wing" was the Tayin'kurtze Stock Exchange, a loud and rowdy building buzzing constantly with flashing billboards and shouting avians. The west "wing" contained the Alasdair Medical Center and Hospital, a much more quiet location that treated all manners of patients. These days, however, its grim staff saw more and more war casualties instead.

Our group descended toward a gate at the entrance to the garden. This was the only way into the Keep. If you flew above the gate, automated guns on the roof and sides of the building would shoot you down in seconds. It was a scary, effective method of security. Ever since the guns were installed twenty-five years ago when my older sister was born, there have been no uninvited visitors to the Keep; there _have_ been several incidents where innocent civilians accidentally flew in range of the guns and, consequently, lost their lives because of it. Normally, this would have caused an upheaval among my people, but from what I've heard, the few casualties of the automated guns were either criminals or dumb homeless people. No one really cared about them.

Four guards manned the gate checkpoint, all of them armed with assault rifles. We landed, and Andreios stepped forward with his ID card. A guard took his ID card, flashed it before a scanner, and then gave it back to him. Andreios stepped forward toward a wall panel. A green laser shot into his right eye and scanned it for a few seconds. Finally, the panel beeped, and the guards opened the gate.

A safe, secure home for a princess? You tell me.

It wasn't until we left the gate far behind and began walking through the garden that Andreios finally spoke up.

"I radioed in a squad to pick up Xavier's body before we came back. They took him back to the morgue. They're fixing him up right now. I believe the funeral will be tomorrow."

I said nothing, letting Andreios fill the silence.

"You okay with that?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," I replied.

"Doesn't sound like it."

"Yeah, but what the hell? It's not like mom's gonna care about what I think. She'll hold the funeral tomorrow, burn him on the pyre, and leave me to mourn over smoldering pieces of coal."

"At least this time she has a body to burn," Andreios replied. I winced. My older sister, Mara, had been brutally gunned down in battle nine years ago. Her killers continued shooting her body long after she died. They had intended to deliver pieces of bird meat to my mother.

"Yeah," I said.

After a few minutes we reached the main lobby of the Keep. It was a spacious enclosure, with the ceiling six floors above our heads. Marble pillars supported the ceiling, while painted murals of birds of prey decorated the walls. In front of us was a reception desk. Behind it, rising up into the ceiling and the tower beyond, were the elevators.

We proceeded past the reception desk; the receptionist nodded briskly at us before returning to her work. As we approached the elevators, we shifted into our demi-forms, our wings draping along the ground.

We didn't have ordinary mechanical elevators. The box-like things used in other human buildings made us avians claustrophobic. Our elevators were simple: a large turbine set into the ground with a metal grille over it. The turbine spun powerful currents of air up a tube that ran into the ceiling and up the building. Every few levels or so, a few smaller propellers on the sides of the tube would propel us further, should we want to go all the way up.

"Shardae," Andreios said, motioning me to go up first.

I stepped onto the grille. The powerful rush of air from the turbine ruffled my hair and feathers. Quickly, I flared out my golden hawk wings, and the turbine blew me up the building. I looked up as I entered the tube in the ceiling. Now and then, a glowing, green number would appear denoting the next level before a large opening came up. I zoomed up thirty, forty, fifty, sixty floors. I kept going until the bright 150 appeared before I prepared to disembark.

When the opening came up, I pulled my wings into my body and leaned out of the tube. I landed gracefully on the top floor of the Keep. Andreios and his squad had disembarked several floors down. I was finally alone.

I went down a hall to my left, opened a door, and entered a spacey living room. Across from me, an entire wall of glass gave a panorama of Tayin'kurtze, which was just starting to light up as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Taking up the wall to my left was a 120" HD plasma TV. Settled about fifteen feet away from the screen were several sofas and comfy chairs. On my right was a mini-kitchen, which had a dumbwaiter that could deliver meals to me should I choose to eat in my suite. Hanging on walls around me were paintings of serene landscapes and gorgeous mountain ranges.

I walked to a door to the right and into my bedroom, which was just as richly furnished. My giant queen-sized bed sat in the center. A nightstand and a bookcase flanked it. One wall was glass, while the opposite wall led into my bathroom.

I plopped down on the soft fabric of my bed and stared at the textured ceiling. I thought over all the things that happened today:

1. My younger brother died.

2. Gregory Cobriana died.

3. I almost died because Gregory thought it'd be nice to leave a little parting gift.

4. I was assaulted by paparazzi.

So many people died today. No doubt tomorrow was going to be the same.

At least the paparazzi didn't try to kill me.

I pushed myself off my bed, intending to go talk with my mother about Xavier's death. (I assumed she had heard the news by now.) Instead, my body walked itself over to the sofa. It lounged down on it, picked up the remote, and flicked on the TV.

Channel surfing. Every golden hawk's guilty pleasure.

International news. Local news. Cooking show. Reality show. Some odd TV series about doctors doing weird things to each other. Soccer, basketball, educational TV, animal show—hey look, a real hawk!—teen drama series, show business news, another teen drama series, movie, movie…

I turned back to the show business channel.

The host wasn't talking about news. Currently, she was talking about a poll her station had recently done asking who the cutest female celebrity was. I half expected to see myself up there.

I was right. In fact, a picture of me in a new silver dress showed up first.

After the host squealed over my dress and makeup, she proceeded to several other celebrities that came up behind me. All of them, more or less, had blonde hair and either green or blue eyes. Oh, and sexy, curved bodies, too. Topping it off, they were all depicted in either mini-skirts or skin-tight jeans. Several of them were with tall, toned boyfriends.

Aw, well. Who was I kidding? Of _course_ they were all going to be sexy blondes. My people absolutely adored me. Hell, they were willing to copy my body.

The host ended her segment about the poll. She proceeded to repeat the news that had been circulating all day: Xavier Shardae, younger brother to Danica Shardae, was found dead on the front lines. Officials hadn't released any details yet, but rumor had it that Gregory Cobriana, younger brother to Zane Cobriana of the serpiente, had fired the six shots that killed Xavier.

It wasn't news to me.

I picked up the remote and switched to a teen drama series. It was about young professional ice skaters and love triangles, stuff I'd stopped watching a few years ago. But, right now, anything was better than hearing again and again that my brother was dead.

So, I settled down, got comfortable, and watched what some TV critics called "media masturbation for teens". I didn't care.

A girl on screen began screaming at a boyfriend who'd been stepping out on her. Apparently, the guy had gone for her friend, who just happened to be a better ice skater than the girl. The girl teared up and began sobbing.

I laughed. I love TV.


	3. Funerals, Malls, and Low Life Bars

"…and so, it is with grief and longing that we gather here today to burn Xavier Shardae's body."

I was standing near the front, next to the giant mound of firewood. On top of the wood sat a single wooden coffin. Around the woodpile were the burners, holding lighters and cans of gasoline. Standing rigidly in two lines from the pyre were avian soldiers, assault rifles clutched in their hands. The soldiers' commander was next to them.

The preacher, who stood to the side, turned to the burners and said, "Commence the burning."

I looked on as three avians stepped forward and showered the woodpile with stream upon stream of clear, flowing gasoline. The preacher continued his eulogy while his colleagues worked.

"Xavier Shardae was not just a prince to us, was not just another distanced member of the royal house. He was a brother, a son, a friend to many in this city and nation. His bravery in entering the army at the young age of seventeen exemplifies the fiery passion for duty that so many others have shown in their sacrifices. Yet, even as he went off to the front lines, Xavier did not forego his family and friends here in Tayin'kurtze. He laughed as they laughed, cried as they cried, and made sure that, above all, they would live a happy and fruitful life."

And you, Xavier? What about _your_ happy and fruitful life?

"We burn Xavier today as more than just a soldier. We burn him as an unforgettable son and companion." With that, a fourth avian stepped forward with a lit torch, as was custom. With one swift movement, he threw the burning stick onto the pile. The fire instantly took, and before long a raging inferno engulfed the tiny coffin that housed the body of my younger brother.

On the preacher's cue, the avian commander yelled a command. All of the soldiers lifted and fired their rifles in synchronization. They spun their heavy guns, lifted them, shot them again. They repeated the routine a third time.

What about your life, Xavier? What about _it?_

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><p>An hour later, as the fire burned to ashes and the funeral guests left, I knelt by the remains of the pyre, staring at the black soot and glowing embers.<p>

I heard someone approaching from behind. I looked up. It was my mother.

She didn't speak for a while. We just stared at Xavier's burned remains as the wind slowly picked them up and carried them away into the air.

Xavier was my mother's favorite. She absolutely adored my younger brother. Now, with his death heavy in her mind, she spoke to me.

"You're not going back to the front lines, Shardae."

I fidgeted in response.

"I know you want to fight among your own people. I know that you don't want hide in the Hawk's Keep while your men and women die for you out there."

I gave a barely perceptible nod.

"At the same time, you'll be Tuuli Thea in less than a month. Your people need you to lead them. And you can't lead them if you're dead."

"Yes, mom," I replied quietly.

She turned around and left, shifting into her hawk form and taking off into the air. A small group of guards followed her.

I was still kneeling by the cinders. I dipped my head down, finally coming to terms with my brother's death. Out of sight, I let one single tear leak from my eyes. It streaked a trail down my face and fell to the ashes below.

It sizzled when it hit the live embers.

Wiping my face dry, I rose, shifted into hawk form, and lifted into the air. As I circled above the pyre, I spotted the wide, unblinking eyes of the cameras. The only ones that were more persistent than my guards were the journalists. They were here early, and would no doubt leave late, trying to catch any glimpse of sorrow or pain on my face. All they would get is a plain sheet of avian reserve over my complexion. The paparazzi didn't like that, but all the 300 million avians across the empire who would see me tonight would like it. If their queen-to-be could take the hardship in stride without a tear, then they could too.

If only they knew…

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><p>The rest of my day was a lot brighter, compared to my morning. After lunch, I met with Alicia and Hannah, two friends who I've known since childhood. They seemed to be the only two who weren't scared off years ago when my mother clamped down on my personal security, giving me round-the-clock guards, butlers, and servants. Gradually, everyone at the Keep came to trust the two of them. In fact, Andreios had also struck up a friendship with them. Often, whenever I was out with Alicia and Hannah, Andreios would be there with us, acting as friend and guard at the same time.<p>

Today was no exception. Andreios, Alicia, Hannah, and I were at Peace Plaza, the largest—and most ironically named—commercial district in Tayin'kurtze. Spanning six hundred acres, the mall complex had everything you could dream of and more. From clothes, accessories, and makeup, to food, drinks, and entertainment, the plaza had it all. Fun fact: counting the merchants, storeowners, security guards, and janitors who worked here, there were supposed to be around 2 million avians within the plaza on any given day. Needless to say, it was crowded.

The four of us spent several hours perusing the shops and storefronts. Alicia and Hannah shrieked and gaggled at every cute dress or blouse they came across. Andreios was rather disinterested the entire time, aside from a moment when he entered a video game shop to browse its contents. (C'mon, now. What did you expect him and his guards to do in their downtime?)

It was early evening by the time we left Peace Plaza. Alicia and Hannah were weighed down with shopping bags—their rich families and backgrounds meant they could afford to part with so much money at once. I hadn't bought anything. I was pretty subdued for most of the day, ruminating on my past life with Xavier. Alicia and Hannah tried to bring me in on the excitement a few times, but they usually left me alone, aware of what I was going through. I was deeply grateful for that.

We parted ways. Alicia and Hannah were going off to another rich friend's birthday party, and left with jittery excitement and anticipation. Andreios and I returned to the Keep.

Andreios asked if I could come to his office and speak with him for a moment. We landed on floor 140, the Royal Guard's barracks. Andreios entered through a large door. Inside were rows of bunks. A mess hall was at the end of the barracks, while an armory area near the door was shelved and stockpiled with numerous assault rifles, machine guns, and sniper rifles. Members of the Royal Guard were scattered about, some cleaning and repairing their guns, others eating an early dinner in the mess hall. In one corner, at least half a dozen guards were gathered around a small TV. I heard sounds of gunfire and explosions come from the TV.

Andreios led me to his office, which was halfway down the barracks. As we passed the group of guards, one shouted, "Aw, dammit! I _hate_ those mines!"

"That's why I set them, dumbass," another guard answered. Everyone laughed.

A sharp cracked sounded. The guard who had previously set the mines swore loudly.

A third guard said, "Jeez, Martin, keep your head down. I can see your hot-pink helmet from a mile away," Others laughed even harder.

It was odd to see these guards playing a war game when they were already _in_ a war.

We entered Andreios's office. He closed the door.

"What's up, boss?" I said right off the bat with overdone casualness.

Andreios just shook his head at me, as if I was a naughty chick. "What's with you, Danica? I see family, friends, and soldiers dropping dead everywhere, and you don't even break a sweat."

"You mean a tear."

"Danica, why are you acting like this with me?"

I crossed my arms and looked thoughtful for a second, before saying, "How exactly am I supposed to act? Like your star-crossed lover?"

"Ye—no!" Andreios shouted with exasperation. I tried hard to suppress the smile tugging at my lips.

"Look, all I want to say is, if there's anything that's bothering you, anything at all, you can come talk with me about."

I've done that for several years now, yet Andreios doesn't seem to have noticed.

"Alright, Rei," I said, deciding to give him a break from my cold shoulder.

I went up to my suite. For the next half hour, I tried to practice my flute. Among us avians, the instrument's airy tone and quality made it very popular. Today, however, it just sounded hollow to me.

Eventually, I put it away and went to watch some TV. The minute I turned it on, the host from last night began reporting on the full details of Xavier's death; the officials had finally released what happened yesterday. Along with Xavier, about 450 avian soldiers were killed and 680 wounded when the serpiente launched a sudden offensive in the forested northern region.

The attack was brutal. The serpiente started off by sending in their tanks, which ripped up our defenses and widened a gap large enough for their infantry to enter through. Their infantry used a lethal combination of close-range shotguns (absolutely deadly against birds) and silenced sub-machine guns (absolutely deadly against soldiers) to take down our surprised personnel. It wasn't until our drones arrived and began bombing the area that the serpiente eased off on their attack.

Frustrated, I turned off the TV. I went to my room, opened up a drawer, and retrieved a slender knife, which I slid onto my thigh. Then, I left my suite, taking a dark service elevator to the bottom so no one would notice me leaving. I walked out onto the dark, dirty streets of Tayin'kurtze.

I palmed the handle of my knife. I never knew when I'd need it.

I flew for fifteen minutes, down several blocks and around a corner. On TV, I was a princess, a celebrity. Here on the streets, I was just another girl flying around, looking for a place to fill the empty hole in her heart.

I finally found the place: Träisha's Bar.

I alighted in front of the double doors and pushed them open. I entered an entirely different side of the city, an entirely different side of avian society.

The bar was dimly lit. A long counter sat against the opposite wall, with a giant rack of wine bottles behind it. To my left were a pool table, a dart board, and a poker table, all with drunk men gathered around them. To my right, a trio of musicians was playing a jazz tune. The sexy, melodic music had recently spread through the empire as the thousands of horn musicians in the land began picking it up.

I walked right up to the bar. The three or four drunken avians already seated before it gave me bleary-eyed glares.

Träisha was cleaning the bar with a dirty rag. She looked up when I took a seat across from her.

"The usual? Or something stronger?" she asked.

"Naw, the usual," I replied.

She handed me a mug of clear-looking fluid. I stared into the drink for a moment, saw my reflection in it. Then, I lifted the mug to my lips, tilted it back, and let the avian liquor trickle down my throat.

* * *

><p>The first time I had entered Träisha's bar was four years ago, during an especially hard year of fighting. That year, serpiente forces had pushed very close to Tayin'kurtze; the citizens of the city were preparing to flee any day. That was also the year my alastair, Vasili, was killed in action. After the funeral, no amount of comforting from Andreios or any of my other friends and family could suppress the raw emotions underneath my cool complexion.<p>

One day, I just had to get away from it all. Sneaking down the service elevator, I flew the streets of Tayin'kurtze for hours, my mind, heart and soul racked and torn by grief and sorrow. Eventually, with my wings aching and sore, I found a place to rest for a while. That place happened to be Träisha's place. Most of the low-lifes in her bar didn't acknowledge me, but Träisha knew who I was, and, upon seeing her princess's broken condition, offered me a drink.

It was a dangerous maneuver. The legal drinking age in Tayin'kurtze was 16 years of age. (That was easy. I've heard of some provinces that prohibited drinking until 20.) The main reason for this was because of how strong avian liquor was; on average, it was about 60 percent alcohol, and smelled more like cleaning solvent than anything. I was only fifteen when I got my first dose of the lovely stuff. If the media knew, if even my mother knew, I'd have been in a heap of trouble that I would never be able to dig myself out of. Despite this, though, I accepted the drink.

I accepted four more drinks after that.

All I remember is this: getting up, stumbling around, finding the bathroom, puking, flushing the toilet, puking again, leaving the bathroom, and returning to the bar.

I think I passed out at that point.

I remember coming to in my bedroom with Andreios sitting on the bed next to me. I never knew how I got back to my suite. The question didn't concern me at the time. What did concern me was the pounding headache and ungodly taste in my mouth. With the help of medication and support from Rei, I managed to recover from the hangover in about half a day—amazing, really. Because of my speedy recovery, I was able to hide my drinking from my mother. She thought I'd just come down with a minor cold or something.

* * *

><p>I set the glass down after emptying the mug. From that experience on, I made sure to always control how much I was drinking and how fast. I let ten minutes pass before ordering another shot. Träisha gave me a concerned look, but filled up my mug anyway. Since that day, Träisha has also taken it upon herself to monitor my alcohol intake. Not that she needed to. Reminisces of that nasty hangover were all it took to keep me from overindulging.<p>

The second shot made my head a little fuzzy. It also warmed up my insides and comforted my throbbing heart. I was immensely satisfied, and began to relax.

The jazz band finished up their song. They were leaving soon, but still had time for one more number. They played a nice, slow melody, one that seemed to subdue and pacify rather than hype up and excite. The haunting tune brought back another memory, a bitter memory of my early childhood. The memory reeked with irony, irony that I didn't fully understand until I stepped onto the battlefield with my rifle.

The song reminded me of the old lullaby called, "Hawksong".

* * *

><p>I paid the tip and proceeded out of the bar. I couldn't bear to listen to more heartache.<p>

The vocalist sang, "Give me your hand, my love. We'll escape this all together."

You wish.


	4. Peace Treaty, Smeesh Treaty

I was eight years old, a child, too young to understand politics, foreign policies, and war. The one thing that got my attention was a falcon from Ahnmik, the rich city-country to the south. He was a few years older than me, but I played with him anyway. I didn't know the young falcon boy worried my mother, or that he was visiting for reasons different from those of other children. I had no idea that he represented a powerful country both stronger and more technologically advanced than ours, one that, by all rights, could take over both the shapeshifter and human worlds in sweeping domination.

I was a child, had no obligation other than to behave and learn my lessons. The present conflicts in the world did not concern me. So I remember the falcon very fondly, as an inkling of nostalgia.

One of my tutors was speaking with my mother. I didn't pay heed to their conversation until I heard Andreios's name pop up.

"The guards believe he's gone out to the front lines to search for his father," said my tutor.

I was too young to understand the solemnity of death, but I understood that Rei was upset and needed comforting.

I snuck out of the Keep before my mother could return. I had known Rei for my entire life and loved him as if he was family. He would listen to me and accept my company. The falcon tried to stop me from leaving, but, as a head-strong girl, he could not control me.

My first breath of death and war hit me as I flew toward the front lines, which echoed with the booms of artillery and the cracks of rifles. I knew of the war, had heard about how gruesome it was and how so many soldiers died each year in it, but I'd never seen the horror up close or smelled the gunpowder, the blood, the choking soot from bombs. In the middle of this was Rei, hunched over the desecrated body of his father, sobbing.

I landed beside him.

I hadn't even opened my mouth before the hostiles appeared. Rei pushed me into the dirt, covering my body with his to protect against the flying bullets. He pulled his father's rifle from his body and returned fire. I saw bullets hit him, felt his lean body shudder and shake from the penetrating rounds, heard him scream in agony. Someone dragged me out from under Rei's now lifeless body. When I resisted, I found I was fighting a crumpled, linen sheet.

I was dreaming again, reliving the scene I saw every night. I had been knocked out when a hand grenade exploded nearby. Andreios somehow managed to save both of us from the blast. His brush with death—he had been shot some forty-six times—drastically altered him, forced him to man up and face the pain. He became a soldier after that. He had enlisted in the avian army when he was thirteen and the Royal Flight when he was fifteen. He became captain of the group at only nineteen.

I wanted to stay awake, but I fell asleep again. Nightmares have plagued me for years now.

I walked through the forests and fields, through the grasslands and trenches that I'd been drawn to ever since Rei's father died. Pain, bloodshed, war. Guns, bullets, bombs. They stained me, infected me, spread through me that day.

I went from the Andreios dream into a dream with Vasili, my lover, protector, and would-be-husband, had he not died early. He seemed like a scary guy—cold, unemotional, serious, no-nonsense. While I saw blood and gore in my dreams and nightmares, he saw blood and gore in the trenches and on the battlefield. It was nothing new to him. Eventually, however, I learned to understand him, and then I learned to love him—just in time to see him fall, like so many others.

I ran from the ghost of my past and into the face of Zane Cobriana, the snake who led the race that slaughtered my kind. He was the reason for every death, for every tear, for every ruined family. My breathing stopped as my warm avian blood froze into ice. I felt a scream well up in my throat—

"Dani, are you all right?"

I was sitting up in bed, staring at Rei, who'd come in with his assault rifle ready. I must have screamed in my sleep. He wasn't supposed to be on duty until this afternoon, but I was grateful that he'd been the one who heard my scream.

He was searching the room for whatever had frightened me. His gaze alighted, rather nervously, on something right in front of me.

"Um…Danica, are you sure you're alright?"

I followed Andreios's gaze and realized I was pointing my 9 millimeter pistol at him.

I let out my pent up breath, lowered the handgun, and flipped on the safety with my shaky hands. Lately, as a desperate bid against the nightmares, I had begun sleeping with my pistol in hand. It didn't do any good, though.

"I'm fine," I responded, though I honestly felt terrible.

He relaxed and lowered his own gun. "Dream?"

I nodded and slipped out of bed. It was morning, and if Andreios was here, then that meant there was something I needed to know.

Andreios fidgeted before saying, "Your mother needs to meet you downstairs as soon as possible."

So I changed quickly—nothing fancy, just jeans and a shirt. My mother never called me up for nothing.

I opened the door to my suite to find five other guards outside my door, in addition to Andreios. I expected this type of security on the front lines, but never in my own home.

"Is mom hurt?" I asked, panic rising in me.

"She's safe," answered Rei. "Another squad of the flight is with her."

I shook my head in exasperation. "Then what's with the jump in security?" I blinked, then added, "And who's guarding the outside?"

"The rest of the flight, several platoons of the avian army, and the Tayin'kurtze police. They have the entire city cleared," said one of the guards.

"They're all good shots. As for your other question…well…we seem to have a visitor, which is why your mother wanted you in the first place," said Rei.

The guards around me suddenly shifted and descended to the ground floor.

My brow furrowed in astonishment, I turned to Andreios and said, "Did Zane Cobriana decide to pay us a visit?"

He eyed me grimly and simply said, "Good guess, but not quite."

I wanted him to elaborate, but instead he shifted and flew down. I had no choice but to follow.

We found my mother in a courtyard within the massive garden. Benches lined the sides of the courtyard, bordered by small pines and firs. In the center, sitting cross-legged on a soft bed of grass, was our visitor, her eyes closed as if in meditation. Four of our guards stood around her, guns clutched nervously in their hands.

Standing around the courtyard, watching us with searing intensity, was the media. Some of the cameras were trained on me as I approached, but most were still zeroed in on our visitor. Reporters stood scattered around, some in the courtyard, others perched in bird form in the trees. There had to be at least forty journalists documenting this impromptu diplomatic meeting.

I recognized the midnight black hair and pale skin immediately, though the length of her hair told me she wasn't Zane Cobriana. Her waist, chest, and shoulders were covered in thick padding—Kevlar, bullet-proof armor. She wore a thin long-sleeved shirt under the armor. On the bottom was a pair of pants and low heels. All of the clothes she wore, armor included, were black, standing out against the white of her face.

She opened her eyes when we approached. I found myself looking into twin wells of burning magenta, glossy and iridescent. Her eyes seemed to have a life of their own. We stared at each other, golden gaze versus ruby glare. I ended up losing the staring contest and looking away.

"She comes in peace," my mother said, though she sounded dubious. She turned to the visitor and said, "Irene, allow me to introduce my daughter and heir, Danica Shardae. Shardae, this is Irene Cobriana, Zane's younger sister."

My skin crawled momentarily with goosebumps, but I answered the introduction politely.

_What in the world is this _bitch_ doing here?_

Seeing and hearing Gregory Cobriana dying on the battlefield was one thing. Greeting Irene Cobriana—healthy, unhurt, and clearly dangerous—was something else entirely.

The guards had searched her already; if Irene was honest, then they shouldn't have recovered any weapons, firearm or other. But even without a gun, Irene was deadly. Her kind's eyes could paralyze you, as I'd experienced just before. Their poison was unimaginable. Depending on the species, the poison was either a neurotoxin or a cytotoxin. One killed your brain, the other killed your cells. In the end, both types melted your insides and turned you into a gelatinous mush. I've even heard rumors of _explosive_ poisons—poisons that created huge amounts of expanding gas which, ultimately, ripped the victim to pieces and showered his guts everywhere.

Irene Cobriana spoke first. I thanked her for that. Had I been the first one to speak, I would've flooded Tayin'kurtze's sewers with a gargantuan slew of dirty language.

"The serpiente want peace," said Irene, still sitting in her cross-legged position. "I realize this hasn't been the first time that an attempt at a truce has been made. But I believe we need to stop the fighting, now." She crossed her arms. "The serpiente are tired of fighting, killing, and slaughtering."

Someone scoffed. Mother glanced at someone in the media crowd.

Irene instantly flared up at the subtle gesture. Her eyes somehow burned even redder in anger. "My father was killed in a drone attack. One of my uncles was, too, while another was machine-gunned into pieces." She lifted her chin frostily at us. "Two of my brothers were killed by artillery. A third," she spat at me, "was killed by your crow buddy back there and his lackeys."

I heard the guards shuffle and adjust their weapons. They wouldn't attack unless Irene did, but I knew that the snake's accusations were making them awfully trigger-happy.

I wanted to tell Irene that Gregory had nearly killed me, and that Andreios and his squad were forced to shoot, but she continued before I could interrupt.

"My sister Sisal and the child she was carrying were both gunned down by some of your infantry. Do you know what they did to her after that?" She didn't wait for a reply.

"They ripped open her swollen stomach with their bayonets, yanked out the unborn child. They decapitated both my sister and her child, stuck the heads on a bayonet, and drove it into the ground next to their bodies." The sardonic smile that lit up her face absolutely terrified me. "One of your men even left a message. It said, 'Crushed two snakes with one heel.'"

A collective gasp from the media. Several of them adjusted the microphones on their long poles.

I'd heard about the incident. I couldn't imagine it, which I was glad for. I hoped no other women, avian or serpiente, would go through what Irene's sister went through.

"My people are getting restless. They want a Diente. My mother is a good women, but she's only the Naga. The serpiente won't just follow her because of her last name. They want Zane. He is the last true heir to the title."

Silence. Or, at least, as close to silence as you can get with forty people staring in anticipation at you. Someone coughed. Another person cleared his throat. The creak of the heavy camera equipment permeated the silence.

"I apologize in advance if we don't completely trust you, Irene," said my mother. "Your kind has not been very honest in the past."

Irene licked her lips, apparently preparing for another speech. "Gregory was killed two nights ago. He was dying, helpless to defend himself, yet you and your guards shot him anyway. He was only _seventeen_, and now he is—"

My mother, running low on patience, interrupted, with as much courtesy as she could, "I beg your pardon, Irene, for interrupting you. But I'm sure you didn't come here to lament your dead relatives. What is it that you want us to know?"

Her nostrils flared in rage, but otherwise she didn't dispute the interruption. I had to give it to her: for a serpent, Irene was very good at keeping her emotions in check.

"Zane proposed a truce. He, my mother, and I would like to meet with you and your heir, as well as anyone else you think necessary."

"And where are we to meet?"

"Before the Mistari Disa." Irene shifted slightly. "The main reason why young serpiente men and women are enlisting is to avenge the deaths of their loved ones. They don't trust avians, and I'm sure your people don't trust serpiente. I think it'll take a lot to convince our people that the Tuuli Thea and her people want peace as much their Naga and Arami do."

As an avian, it was hard to believe that Zane Cobriana desired peace at all. Stories and rumors about his fighting ability abounded. Some said his poison was strong enough to kill ten elephants. Others said he'd been extensively trained in martial arts, and could take down any soldier in hand-to-hand combat. Besides that, his skill with firearms was said to be phenomenal. Though he was proficient with most weapons, he supposedly preferred a long, slender, silenced pistol that he used to assassinate opponents with. He was as quiet as a ghost, a stealthy hunter of the night. Headshots…well, according to some, they were his middle name.

My mother said, "I take it that your playing ambassador is a show of faith from your side. What does Zane ask for in return?"

Irene didn't hesitate to say, "Just that you agree to meet with us on peaceful terms before the Mistari Disa. We'd like to speak with her about peace talks, and whatever would be involved in them."

My mother turned to me. "Shardae?"

I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all. But I didn't see any reason not to go through with the proposal. Gregory Cobriana's gruesome end…Vasili's death in action…Xavier's murder. All of them had been early; all of them had been premature.

It seemed like everyone—avian and serpiente, diplomat and reporter—was holding their breaths, waiting, _waiting,_ for my answer.

I opened my mouth. The words of another woman spilled out.

"I don't trust them. However, if they honestly want peace, if Zane Cobriana wants peace…" I gazed at the reporters, the cameras, at Irene, hiding nothing. "Then I believe we should go through with his proposal."

"Andreios, what do you think?" asked my mother.

He ground his teeth for a few moments before saying, "Mistari lands are neutral. They wouldn't allow anything to happen on their territory. It'd be insanity for either of us to attempt an attack."

So my mother turned back to Irene and the cameras and said, "It's settled. We accept the proposal." She gestured for Irene to stand, against the guards' protest and the journalists' nervousness. "Irene, please tell your…prince that we are willing to meet with him."

"Thank you, Nacola," said Irene. "We can meet any day you please, as soon as possible. Just say a date, and I will tell my brother."

My mother turned to Andreios and spoke briefly with him before saying, "In three nights, this coming Friday. It will take at least that long to organize our people and travel to the location."

The serpiente capital city, Anlæro-pavara, was a good fifteen hundred kilometers from the Mistari capital of New Harreio. Between the two cities were the Jarkaroy Desert and the expansive Limoyä mountain range. If the serpiente left the moment Irene returned to Anlæro-pavara and took one of their bullet trains to New Harreio, they could probably make the deadline. They wouldn't have time to plan an ambush.

Irene bowed. She showed no frustration at being rushed to the meeting. "Thank you again, Nacola, Danica. My best wishes to both of you until then."

_To hell with wishing, Irene. It doesn't work._


	5. The Conference

I fidgeted in my seat. I crossed my legs, then uncrossed them. I gazed around at the large, spacious room in anticipation. Nervous? Definitely. My avian reserve wasn't hiding my anxiety this time.

The conference hall was circular, with pillars ringed around it. A large skylight set in a dome provided the majority of the light in the room; small lamps mounted on the walls provided the rest. Below the skylight were a collection of flags—the Mistari flag, the avian flag, the serpiente flag, and the flags of several other human nations. On the floor was a long, curved table that wound itself into an O. Directly across from me was a pair of high thrones, where the Mistari Disa and Dio sat.

I glanced at the triangular plaque sitting on the desk in front of me. I turned it toward me. _Danica Shardae. Avian Republic._ Nothing else. I returned the plaque to its former position and took in the company around me.

To my left were the serpiente: Irene Cobriana, Charis Cobriana, Zane Cobriana, and two guards. They emanated an air of cool relaxation, the opposite of what I was feeling. For the meeting, the three had traded in their normal attire for more conservative apparel, both for me and for the humans in the room. I eyed Zane, who casually eyed me in return. Once again, I lost the staring contest.

I turned my attention to the four humans to my right. They were as uptight as I was, in part because of the cobras' unnerving eyes, but mainly for reasons all their own. I read their plaques. Their names were quickly lost to me. What stuck in my mind were the acronyms: UK, USA, USSR, and PRC. The humans loved giving their countries long, fancy names. It didn't make them any less distasteful.

Finally, I came to the empty seat next to me.

I turned to Andreios and whispered, "Do you know who else is coming? There's an empty seat next to us."

He shrugged. "Search me. Might just be another human official."

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't sure why the humans were so adamant about meddling in our affairs. This truce between the avians and serpiente was only between the shapeshifters. Sure, the humans sold plenty of weapons to us, but that was the most of our interactions. I wanted to ask these officials what they were doing here.

I would never get the chance, because at that point our final guest arrived.

She pushed open the double doors to the conference hall with a powerful thrust, instantly demanding our attention. Not that she needed to do so. Her pale gold hair tumbled to her waist; it was silver in front, almost white. Her eyes were the color and temperature of ice, set in skin the same tone as mine. Wings extended from her back, golden on the undersides, brown, gray, and black on the primaries. She was dressed very casually—a white blouse, dark navy jeans, and leather boots that reached to her knees.

The human officials stared wide-eyed at her for a moment, before recovering their poise. Still, they eyed her with suspicion as she slid into the seat next to me.

The Mistari Disa's face was forcedly unemotional as she said, "Welcome, Syfka. I hope you find the accommodations acceptable?"

"They're half-decent," the falcon replied.

I shot Rei a bewildered glance. It was strange enough for the humans to attend this meeting. But the falcons? Why the hell were _they_ here?

The Mistari Disa stood to silence the wave of murmuring that had swept through the hall. Around us, once again, were the reporters, with their cameras and microphones and notebooks. This time, they came from all different races—avian, serpiente, human, but mostly Mistari.

"Today we gather here to recognize a truce between the avian and serpiente people. We gather here to bare witness to what will hopefully be the final peace agreement between these two people. I realize that this will not be easy for either of you. But, so long as you are willing to compromise, there is always a chance for peace."

My heart hammered in my rib cage. I looked around. The Cobrianas were as relaxed as ever, though Zane was looking in Syfka's direction with a furrowed brow. The human officials acknowledged the Mistari Disa, doing what they could to ignore Syfka's radiant presence. The aplomado falcon, who absent-mindedly inspected her nails, seemed bored with the meeting already. Around us, the reporters were busy scribbling in their notebooks and flashing pictures of us. I noticed that nearly all of the cameras were trained on Syfka.

The Disa turned to the serpiente. "Charis Cobriana, you are Naga of the serpiente, yes?"

The serpent nodded, saying, "I am, but my Diente is dead. You should address Zane as our leader, even though he hasn't taken the throne yet."

"Zane, have you taken a mate?"

He switched his fiery gaze from Syfka to the Disa. "No. Doing so would be sentencing a woman to death in exchange for love." He chuckled. "I've learned first-hand that even a pregnant woman isn't safe. At least, not a pregnant serpiente woman."

Seemed like dark humor ran in the Cobriana family line.

The Disa turned to me and my mother. "Whom should I address as leader of your people, Nacola Shardae?"

"My daughter, Danica Shardae. She'll be queen soon."

"How soon?" asked the Disa. I drummed my fingers on the desk, working out my anxiety in the repetitive motion.

"Danica currently does not have an alistair. The one she was raised with was killed in this war. She's old enough to choose her own alistair. My daughter still has faith in peace; if anyone is strong enough to lead us to it, it'll be her. She'll become Tuuli Thea on her next birthday."

The Disa spoke to both of us. "Danica, Zane, you've come here to ask for peace. Both of your families are willing to follow you. Why do you need our help?"

A voice interrupted before either of us could speak.

"Why do you think they need your help?"

The Disa raised her eyebrows. "Do you have something you wish to say, Syfka?"

"Yes," she said, snapping her fingers. I noticed that her nails were painted the same blue color as her eyes.

"I am aware of how desperate Danica and Zane are for peace between their people. Unfortunately, I will have to tell them now that attempting this truce is futile."

Though I had had this same thought in the past, I was still shocked to hear Syfka state her opinion so bluntly. Judging by the reactions going around the room, I wasn't the only one. The reporters and journalists gaped in astonishment, before returning to their scribbling with heightened fervor. The Cobrianas also looked shock for a moment, before disagreement and disgust painted their expressions with anger. The human officials fidgeted awkwardly, not sure what to make of this rash, impolite guest of theirs. The Mistari Disa was clearly taken back by Syfka's comment, and tried her best to bring things back together.

"I'm sorry, Syfka, but—"

"The avians and the serpiente are antipodes of each other. One glides through air, the other slithers along the ground. One is calm, reserved, and courteous. The other is bold, expressive, and emotional. They cannot live together in peace." Syfka looked up with cool confidence in her words. "They _will not_ live together in peace."

I was about to berate Syfka, but Zane beat me to it. "Who're you to say so? We may have different life styles, but that won't get in the way of our peace agreement. Above all, the serpiente want peace. The avians do too, according to Danica. We're willing to put our differences aside so that our children won't have to _kill_ each other."

"Please, Syfka, if you would just—"

The aplomado boldly interrupted the Disa. "Cobriana, you have no idea what you're doing. I am doing your people and Danica's people a favor here. Birds and snakes cannot coexist peacefully. They will return to war eventually. It's _inevitable,_ cobra. Don't waste your time on something that your children will just trample into the dirt."

Zane's eyes glowed with the vicious garnet color that I hoped would never be directed at me. "So what do you expect us to do? Just saunter out of this place and back onto the front lines? We aren't doing this because we want to. We're doing it because we _need_ to. If I walk out of this conference hall without a sealed peace agreement with the avians, my people will rebel against me. They don't want another leader who'll just send more of their loved ones to be slaughtered. We have to do this. For our sake, for our children's sake, and for our people's sake."

Oddly enough, Syfka looked pleasantly surprised at Zane's rebuttal. "Oh. So your people have come to this, Zane? So enveloped in their emotion and grief that they can't see the obvious?" She shook her head as if to a naughty child. "It shouldn't surprise me. Love was always a stronger emotion among the serpents than hate was. It was only a matter of time before their grief and sorrow drove them to insanity." She leaned forward with a mocking smile. "Before it drove them to the avians."

I heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Not sure who dropped it, though.

"Syfka," the Disa demanded, on the verge of shouting. "This is a peace agreement between the _avians_ and the _serpiente._ You, if I may so kindly remind you, are a _falcon._ Your thoughts are welcome, but I will not allow you to turn this meeting into an argument. If you have anything else of pertinence to say, say it now. Otherwise, _leave._"

The falcon shrugged and threw up her arms. "If that is your wish, your Majesty."

With that, Syfka scooted her chair back, got up, and proceeded to the door, the cameras following her every step. Halfway there, she stopped, as if she'd forgotten something. She turned her sapphire gaze to one of the human officials.

"My, Mr. Hu, is that a new haircut? I have to say, you look so much more handsome now."

With that, she continued on her way out, a grin etched in her face. The human official whose plaque read "PRC" looked positively flustered. His forehead wrinkled in apprehension, before he straightened his tie and resettled himself, trying to regain his previous composure.

There was a moment of silence after Syfka slammed the door shut. Then, the Mistari Dio cleared his throat.

"So, uh, where were we?"

* * *

><p>I flopped onto the soft, white linens of my hotel bed. I was physically exhausted, even though I didn't say much during the rest of the conference. The initial bout with Syfka had drained me of any tenable reasons to go through with the peace treaty.<p>

The falcons, who lived on the glittering island of Ahnmik, had been allies to the avians throughout the years of war, though their affiliation with us was little more than that between us and the humans. They never supplied us with any weapons or manpower—they kept all of that for themselves. However, Ahnmik was a treasure trove of resources such as oil, coal, lumber, rubber, even diamonds. Occasionally, we would trade for some of these goods, which helped sustain our economy through thick and thin.

The falcons of Ahnmik were rich, filthy rich. The avian-serpiente war only served as another source of income for the city-country. In an abstract sense, it was understandable why Syfka would want the war to continue, as it added to the already bulging vaults of the falcon treasury. Still, peace between the avians and serpiente couldn't hurt the falcons _that_ much. They were so rich already, I doubted anything short of a global apocalypse could bankrupt them, and even then, it was unlikely.

Someone knocked on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Rei stepped in. I sat up on the bed.

Right off the bat, he said, "Today was absolutely insane, wasn't it?"

Need I reply?

The crow shook his head, a wry smile touching his cheeks. "This treaty has so many twists and turns, it's more like an action movie than anything."

He sat himself in a chair across from me, looking as tired as I was.

"Didn't know being a movie star was so tiring," I replied.

He chuckled, before quieting down again.

"So…you okay with what we've negotiated so far?" he asked. I thought for a moment on the treaty so far, weighing the pros and cons in my head.

I should have seen it coming a long way off. The Disa's suggestion for peace between our people was—you guessed it—a marriage between me and Zane. Had Syfka still been in the room when the suggestion was made, I don't know what type of pandemonium could have followed.

It wasn't the first time marriage was brought up as a way to end the avian-serpiente war. It wasn't even the first time the Shardae and Cobriana families have crossed the lines of war and come together, Romeo-and-Juliet style. The last time it had happened was around sixty years ago, in 1951. From what I know, my grandmother's older sister was seduced by the younger brother of then Diente Nikolo Cobriana. After a month or two of courtship, she stole off with her lover, hoping to escape to nearby human countries, where they could hide from their war, their people, and their families.

Things didn't end well for them. My grandmother's sister was abandoned by her lover a week or two after their escapade. She hanged herself three days later, in a dirty motel in a foreign human country, hundreds of miles away from her family. Her lover was never found—urban legend had it that he was sucked into a local drug syndicate and ultimately met his end through an overdose.

Romances between the two royal families stretched even further back than that, back hundreds, even thousands of years. As much as we were repulsed by each other, we seemed attracted to each other. Fate kept slamming the hawks and cobras together.

And every time, fate would tear them apart in bitter cruelty.

"The plan doesn't sound too original," I said.

"It isn't," Rei admitted. "But still, the Disa's advice is sound. There's a reason countries at war have come to her in the past to settle their differences with her help." He tapped his foot, thinking deeply.

I honestly did not believe that marriage between me and Zane, as the Disa had proposed, would end this war. The snake scared me, first of all, though I felt I could work past that fear in time. But it was mainly the history books that kept me from jumping enthusiastically into the deal. Those dusty tomes didn't lie; marriage between the avians and the serpiente did not end well. My ancestors couldn't do it with Zane's ancestors. Who's to say we'd do any better?

I couldn't help but consider, however, what this marriage might bring, if it was successful. If Zane and I could settle down happily and put our differences aside to be with each other, then the avians and serpiente would feel that they could to. Even if they didn't, their children would. Surely, my people and Zane's people would see that the alternative to this was more, more, _more_ bloodshed and gore. Everyone had felt the pains of the war, whether physically or emotionally. Surely, the avians and the serpiente could at least realize this?

"Can I tell you what I believe, Rei?"

"'Course you can. Go ahead."

"I highly doubt this arrangement will work out nicely. And if it does, it'll put too much pressure on the avians."

He nodded.

"But, like you, I can't stop thinking of what this might bring to both countries." I was suddenly struck by an odd idea. "At the very least, we could try this just to defy what everyone else thinks of us."

When it came down to it, everyone—Mistari, human, falcon—reckoned that the peace agreement wouldn't work out. Everyone reckoned that peace between the avians and serpiente was impossible. To the humans, it was a joke. (Many humans called the avian-serpiente war "World War Three".) To the Mistari, it was a disgrace to the shapeshifters' reputation. To the falcons…well…it might as well be entertainment.

Andreios and I were startled out of our thoughts by a xylophone ring tone, which came from Andreios's pocket. He flipped out his phone, read the text that had been sent to him, and got up. "Gotta go. Your mother's just returned from a talk with other ambassadors. Apparently, I'm supposed to protect her in case the media decide to stampede all over her when she gets back here."

I smiled, reaching for the TV remote. "Have fun."

"Yep. Call me if you need anything."

He closed the door. I was left alone to ponder the fate of my people in this intensifying political and love saga.

The TV opened up on a news channel playing the meeting from earlier in the day.

I heaved a great, deep sigh of fatigue. I felt old already.


	6. Unexpected Nighttime Guest

I didn't know how he got in. He did, somehow. I felt the snake's presence in my small room. He was like a ghost, a black miasma that slowly manifested out of the darkness. He stepped toward my bed.

For some odd reason, my sleepy brain decided it'd be best to feign sleep, though in retrospect, it wouldn't have done any good.

He hovered above me as I shifted slightly away from him in my bed. My eyes were closed, and though I remained as slack and relaxed as possible, my heart was racing like a jackrabbit.

He stood and watched me. Carefully, I tightened my right hand over the object I hid under the blanket.

He reached a cool hand out and stroked my arm.

The feeling of ice on my fiery skin shot me straight out of bed. Before I knew it, I was standing with my right arm forward, the 9 millimeter handgun pointed at Zane Cobriana's chin.

Simultaneously, a cold, hard barrel was pressed against my throat. The sleek, slender, silenced pistol brought my breathing to a screeching halt.

Then I tore my eyes away from the weapon and met the gaze of the serpent wielding the gun. My breathing took off again.

The two of us stood there, at gunpoint, for eternity—my chest rising and falling rapidly, his barely at all.

He finally broke the silence.

"Danica."

"Zane," I managed to get out, despite the fact that his pistol was intruding on my windpipe.

He looked down at the black muzzle of my handgun, an inch away from his face.

"So you broke the rule after all, hmm?"

The Mistari hadn't allowed us to bring weapons to the peace meeting. As far as I knew, guns were banned in Mistari lands, except for the police to use. But in the end, my mother had convinced me to at least bring my pistol, in case the serpiente planned anything fishy.

Seemed like they had.

"You did too," I croaked. I was hyperventilating, now. If Zane didn't remove his gun soon, I would probably faint.

He frowned, as if realizing for the first time that he was shoving his gun into my throat.

"Why don't you and I sit down and chat for a moment? In a more…civilized…manner."

I grimaced and said, "Turn on your safety first."

"You do it," he fired back.

"Do it, or your head gets blown to pieces."

His face lit up in feigned surprise. "Ooh, so the Tuuli-Thea-to-be has an attitude, does she? Didn't expect a cute, pretty girl like you to be so violent."

"Looks can be deceiving," I said.

He nodded his head slightly, mildly impressed, before flicking on the safety of his gun and lowering it from my throat. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, set the safety of my weapon, and lowered it as well.

"So what brings you to my hotel room at…two-thirty in the morning?" I said, glancing at the red digits of the radio alarm clock on the nightstand.

The serpent shoved his pistol into a holster at his hip. "Come. Sit. Let's chat a little, shall we?" he said, motioning toward plush cushions nearby.

Still watching him, I sat down on one cushion. Zane sank down on the other with liquid fluidity.

"I realize this is very late, Danica. But I didn't think I'd be able to talk to you privately tomorrow, with your guards and the media surrounding you all the time."

I stifled a yawn. Had I been conversing with an avian, the act would've been quite offensive. Zane, however, didn't seem bothered.

"Okay, then. What would you like to talk about, Zane?"

He glanced down at the handgun still held loosely in my hand, before looking up with those ruby irises.

"About life."

"And what is it about life that you want to talk about?" I responded, wanting to get this over as quickly as possible.

He put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on his palm.

"I want to talk about our lives and the lives of our people in the face of this war. I want to talk about how, even though this war started as a blood feud between our people, it eventually became globalized, a gambling game of a conflict that the humans and the falcons make money off of."

Then he leaned forward with a creepy glimmer in his eyes.

"Of course, the one thing I _really_ want to talk about is you, darlin'."

The way he shifted from a philosopher to a stalker freaked me out.

"Wh-what?" I stammered.

"You see, Dani," he said, "if I'm going to follow through with what the Disa proposed in the conference today, I'd like familiarize myself with my eventual partner."

"You seem pretty decided on the issue, especially from the way you argued with Syfka," I said.

"Syfka?" He humphed. "The falcon has no idea what she's talking about."

"Still," he continued, "she brought up a point that's been bothering me. Sure, avians and serpiente have tried to bridge the gap between them before, but every single time, things have fallen apart. You're probably reluctant to go through with the treaty because you doubt its effectiveness in ending the war.

"But just consider this, Danica. What if it _does_ work this time? What if, despite the globalization that catalyzes the brutality of the war, we can persuade our people—as well as the international community—that peace is possible? It'll mean so much to our nations, our cultures, and our futures." He glanced at me mischievously. "If anything, we may do this just so we can point and laugh at the humans and falcons who said we couldn't coexist."

Fancy speech, I'd have to admit. Didn't seem scripted. One hundred percent impromptu. Bravo, Zane.

"I have considered all of this, as you have," I replied. "Both of us have weighed the pros and cons. So I guess the only thing we can do now is decide what to do."

Those flashy eyes of his looked me up and down. I raised an eyebrow, trying to look nonchalant while suppressing the blush that was threatening to blossom all over my cheeks.

"Danica, do you have any idea how many serpiente men worship you?"

Zane, do you have any idea how many avian girls fawn over you?

"No," I said, keeping my sarcastic thoughts to myself.

He smiled faintly. "A serpiente sex magazine, _PlaySnake,_ released a photo last summer depicting you in a bikini. It got all over the news—the scandal, I mean. Now, almost every guy wishes he could see your breasts and legs."

Dream on, snakes. It was probably a doctored photo of some other avian model.

"So are you part of the small percentage who doesn't wish to see my private parts?" I said rather meticulously.

He leaned back, stretching his legs and arms.

"Not usually."

"Why 'usually'?" I asked.

"Because," he said, "unlike some other serpiente males, I'm not foolish enough to believe that women are just sex dolls waiting to be poked. Women are intelligent, just like men. And you, Danica, are so intelligent and complex that, even after all these years, I still haven't figured out how you think."

Nice to know that the Arami actually respected women. What got me, though, was his usage of the word "years".

"I thought I understood you, once. Proud, magnificent, yet selfish and egotistical. I practically hated you for several years. Then the gossip magazines started saying that Danica Shardae, the cold 'white witch', wanted to end my brother's agony and suffering on the front lines, wanted to kill him out of mercy so that his tortured soul could rest in peace. I thought that perhaps you might not be as hateful as I'd thought."

In the darkness, I glanced down at my handgun, the handgun that I'd almost used to kill Zane's brother. I rubbed my thumb across the smooth, black metal and the sliver of mahogany wood set into the handle of the pistol. I felt the short barrel, outlined the muzzle of the weapon, studied the intricate grooves and lines. Beretta M9. Italian-made pistol. Sold to the avian army by the United States of America. Used by the queen-to-be of a nation at war.

"Your brother tried to kill me. He almost did. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

Zane didn't answer my question.

An awkward silence passed between us. I continued inspecting my gun while Zane continued watching me.

I yawned deeply. I remembered how late it was.

"I do believe we got sidetracked for a moment there," I said. "What was it we were just talking about?"

"We were talking about what to do at the final day of conference tomorrow," Zane reminded me with more than a note of impatience.

"Alright then," I said, playfully twirling my pistol around my finger by the trigger hold. "So what will it be?"

The pistol came to a sudden halt as the cobra unexpectedly reached forward and clamped his long fingers around my hand and gun. The weapon quivered in our grips. I yelped slightly.

"Remember how I said earlier today that my people would rebel against me if I don't sign the peace treaty?" he asked vehemently.

Shocked into helplessness, I nodded.

"I wasn't lying."

With a quick trick of his finger, he pressed a button on the side of my pistol. The clip of 9 millimeter bullets slid out and fell to the carpet.

Still gripping my gun with one hand, Zane smoothly reached to his hip, grabbed his silenced pistol, flicked off the safety, and pointed it at my face.

Without a weapon to defend myself against either his fangs or his bullets, I started breathing rapidly again.

Coercion. Looked like nice-guy Zane wasn't so tolerant of my attitude anymore.

He stared into my eyes, paralyzing me.

"No one would notice."

Then he continued with his order.

"There _will_ be peace. I will sign the treaty tomorrow." He leaned in close, his lips practically touching mine.

"Do your part."

I nodded again.

With that, Zane rose to his feet, as smooth and graceful as ever. He holstered his gun and, with a deep bow, said, "Bonne nuit, madam."

Then he slid into his black cobra form and disappeared back into the darkness.


	7. Signature

_I was in a daze. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I felt nothing. I was a robot within my own skin._

_ "…vows of marriage will not be made immediately. The ceremonies and nuptials will be up to the two of you to decide. For now, a temporary ceasefire agreement will be made…"_

_ I looked down at my hands, clasped formally in my lap. They seemed like the mutated limbs of an extraterrestrial. I averted my gaze._

_ "Danica?" Rei asked quietly. I nodded to reassure him._

_ "…will require the signatures of both parties…"_

_ Zane Cobriana—my late night visitor—sat across from me, the legal parchment on the table in front of him. I distantly detected his voice reciting the terms of the agreement to the reporters and cameras around him._

_ "…official ceasefire at twelve o' clock of Saturday, September 12__th__, 2015…"_

_ I shivered slightly, despite the fact that the conference hall was warm and temperate. I got the chills anyway; I felt the feathers along the nape of my neck stand up on end._

_ "Ms. Shardae?"_

_ The parchment floated down onto the desk. Someone gave me a pen. Nervously, I scanned the document, trying to take note of the specifics of the treaty, and failing to do so. The text turned into outlandish hieroglyphics; they were about as legible as a three-year-old's scrawling._

_ "Dani?" Rei whispered close by, concerned written all over his face. How odd that the only thing I'd be able to read was my fellow avian's face._

_ I vehemently shoved my anxiety beneath my reserve and quirked a wry smile at Rei._

_ "Don't worry."_

_ Then, with the poise and majesty of the queen I was soon to be, I picked up the pen in my thin, delicate fingers and signed the peace treaty._

_**Danica Shardae**_


	8. Sweet Serpiente Rides

I couldn't really focus until Zane sidled up beside me.

"Thanks," he whispered.

We were walking down the steps of the conference hall, the media pressing all around us, flashing pictures of the "newlyweds". Huh.

I glanced over at the Arami. In the dark of night, he was stealthy and starkly breathtaking, but in broad daylight, he looked surprisingly ordinary. Had I not known otherwise, I could have passed him on the street and not given him a second glance.

Well, actually, I don't know…

We reached the bottom of the marble steps. Purring at the curb was a long, slender beast of midnight chrome metal. I looked on it with a mix of curiosity and unease as a serpiente chauffeur hurriedly stepped out of the vehicle and opened the door with a white gloved hand.

Beside me, Zane smiled with satisfaction at my reaction.

"Like our ride, Ms. Shardae?"

Lacking the power of flight, the serpiente turned to other forms of transportation. Namely, that meant cars and trains. As we avians normally didn't ride in cramped vehicles, it wasn't surprising that I felt a twinge of apprehension at climbing into a limousine—with a snake.

But I brushed past the apprehension and boldly stepped into the spacey interior.

"Very nice, I have to say. Definitely lots of leg room," I said.

Zane climbed in after me. The chauffeur slammed the door closed. Before long, I heard the soft purr of the engine rev up as we accelerated past the masses of people.

Next stop: the train station.

I looked over the limo's interior. Plush leather coated the seats, with a rich burgundy carpet along the floor. A large plasma TV hung across from me—large, at least, within the confines of the cabin. The windows were darkened considerably, so much so that I couldn't see out.

"What make is it?" I asked.

"2016 Mercedes E9, V6 engine, 248 horsepower," Zane rattled off. I had a feeling that this wasn't the first time someone had asked him that.

"Nice," I said, though I hadn't the faintest clue what the V6 or horsepower meant.

He chuckled, picking up a remote and switching on the TV. It was tuned to the local news. We were on the screen, of course.

"Wanna see something else?"

He pressed another button on the remote. I jumped as the floor of the limo suddenly folded up and out, the carpet rotating into sleek granite and fine mahogany wood. Wine glasses stood in holders along the top counter. Another press of a button and a bottle of wine popped out from an alcove.

"Wow," I gasped in genuine awe.

"Care for a drink, Shardae?" Zane asked, grinning in satisfaction.

He cracked open the bottle and poured out the blood-red drink. He picked up the remote again and switched the TV to music. The sound of violins and cellos lilted out from the surround-sound system.

"Do you prefer classical music, or something else?" he asked.

As an avian, I didn't really listen to too much classical music. Mainly contemporary jazz music, with some slow blues and funk mixed in. Avians loved woodwinds and brass—large bands were our favorite. Serpiente, however, preferred string instruments, from the older violins, violas, and cellos, to electric guitars and basses. It was said that serpiente were more in tune with the minute vibrations of strings, and thus enjoyed the music of string instruments more.

Even our tastes of music were drastically different.

"This is alright. I never get to listen to classical music too often anyway. What piece is this?"

Zane raised his eyebrows. "_Spring,_ from Vivaldi's _Four Seasons._ I'm surprised you didn't recognize it."

I shrugged. "Like I said, I don't listen to classical too often."

We sipped our wine. Unlike the strong liquor I was used to, the serpiente alcohol had a pleasant, sweet taste to it. It warmed my throat and esophagus, instead of burning them.

"So, Zane," I started, "I believe it's safe to say that the morning went reasonably well."

He nodded, "It did, thanks to you. I guess I owe you an apology, then, for my unexpected visit last night. I hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable."

Had he said this to most avian ladies, it would have been a gross insult to their decency. But for some reason, I didn't find his comment offensive.

"It's alright," I said, sipping more wine.

Perhaps it was just that, the wine. Maybe the stuff was already wreaking havoc with my judgment. Whatever the case, Zane didn't seem to be as…forward…as I'd initially thought. As most avians thought. It almost seemed…normal.

We passed the time with idle chat in the fifteen minute ride to the station. The topic ranged through a variety of subjects, from recent events in both the avian and serpiente nations, to so-and-so's celebrity TV show, to the specifics of the train that he was going to ride back to Anlæro-pavara. Soon, the marble building of the New Harreio Train Station came into view.

The limo slowed as we pulled up to the station. We stepped out of the vehicle.

Zane's arm threaded its way through mine.

Before I could protest, Zane whispered, "The cameras, remember?"

Right. Those pesky journalists were still here, their giant cameras trained on the two of us. They were as persistent as our guards, who were keeping pace with us in a loose circle.

_The press of the media seems to be the one thing avians and serpiente both have,_ I thought darkly.

We entered through the open double doors of the building. Waiting for us were my mother, Zane's mother, and Irene.

"Greetings, Danica," Charis said politely. "I assume the final part of the peace conference went well?"

I remembered now. Zane's mother hadn't been at the meeting earlier today. She had other business or something.

"As of twelve o' clock today, the ceasefire will go into effect," I said.

"The guns will be silent," Zane added.

My mother smiled as the five of us proceeded through the station. "That's very good news, indeed. I'm sure both my people and your people will support the decision with enthusiasm," she said to Zane.

"But how long, exactly, will this ceasefire last? I don't recall there being a limit on the peace treaty," Irene inquired.

"Hopefully, forever," replied Zane as we stepped onto the platform. Stretched in front of us was the white-plated bullet train, Zane's ride back home. As we approached, a porter placed a hand on a translucent panel of the train's side. A beep, and the entire side of the train car folded in to reveal a plush, furnished interior.

"I do believe that the marriage is the only thing that can let the ceasefire last forever," my mother gently reminded us.

To be honest, I hadn't thought much about the consequences of naming Zane as my mate. I knew all along that I'd have to, of course, but I'd always pushed the thought to the back of my mind. Now, with the drama of the peace conference behind me, the entirety of marrying Zane finally smacked me in the face like a flyswatter.

I glanced at the serpent next to me. In his human form, he didn't look so different, except for his garnet eyes. His black hair was uncommon, but not unheard of among the avians. His pale skin was a shade lighter than mine. The concept of marrying this man seemed both incredulous and practical at the same time.

Zane saved me from answering my mother. "It is, but I don't thing it's a good idea to jump that far yet. Right now, I think it's best if we return to each of our people and confirm the ceasefire in person. It will take time for my people to realize that the avians are no longer an enemy. Until then, I think we could all use some downtime." Slyly, Zane winked at me. I felt the knots in my stomach relax.

Charis nodded. "I agree. We should decide the details of the nuptials some other day, perhaps in a week or two." She turned to me and my mother. "In the meantime, I wish you two a pleasant journey back to your homeland."

"Likewise to you and your children, Charis," my mother replied.

Zane detached himself from me as he, Irene, and Charis stepped onto the train. The porter entered after them and closed the car door from the inside. A whistle sounded, and before long the bullet train glided silently out of the station.

"Dani?"

I started. I'd forgotten that Andreios had been watching our conversation. I'd forgotten that he'd been listening to our plans for my marriage to Zane.

I hoped he wasn't put off.

"Rei?" I asked quietly. My mother was watching us expectantly.

He said, in a louder voice, "Our escort back to Tayin'kurtze is ready. We should leave if you don't have any further business here."

My mother shrugged. "There's nothing left for us. Besides, the media here is starting to give me a headache."

For once, I agreed whole-heartedly with my mother.

* * *

><p>Later, as we flew away from the cityscape of New Harreio, I ruminated over everything that had happened during my time there. Considering how I thought things were going to go before the trip, the peace negotiation had gone very well. As I looked up at the desert sun beaming down on me, I realized that the front lines would be quiet right now, devoid of all the booms, bangs, and blasts. Thinking forward, it seemed that finally, after centuries and millennia of bloodshed, those battlefields may soon be calm and peaceful. It was unbelievable how well things were going—permanent peace between the avians and the serpiente actually looked like a reality.<p>

But a feeling nagged at the back of my mind. Things were going _too_ well. I had a foreboding feeling that this precious peace wasn't going to last long.


	9. Infiltration

_ The military airfield was quiet. The soldiers and drone pilots had all finished their training for the day. They holed up within the barracks, unwinding after the strenuous day of work. A single sentry guarded the massive hangar where the remote-controlled planes were housed. He stood in a sheltered outpost tower, aiming a powerful floodlight down on the lifeless tarmac of the airfield._

_ He yawned and stretched. He shifted the strap of the automatic rifle slung across his chest into a more comfortable position. Sniffling, he sneezed in the cooling air of the autumn night. Lazily, he pulled a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, lit the cigarette, and took a long draw, blowing out the smoke into a translucent cloud._

_ He heard a shuffling sound below. Thinking it was some engineer making a last check on the drones, he turned the floodlight and began scanning the area. He puffed on his cigarette in irritation; he'd already made a thorough sweep of the machinery. No serpent was going to hijack a drone tonight—at least, not without waking up the entire compound._

_ "The drones have been checked through twice already. What the hell do ya' need?" he shouted down to the approaching figure._

_ The figure ignored him. Annoyed, the guard heaved the spotlight up and directly at the figure._

_ "Hey! What do ya'—"_

_ His breath caught in his throat. The powerful light of the floodlight reflected glaringly off the stark white hair of the falcon below. She lifted her head up to the guard._

_ "Holy mother of—"_

_ A sniper bullet hit him in the neck before he could get further. He squeaked once in pain, before groaning and slumping to the floor of the tower._

_ Not a single avian had heard the silenced sniper shot. The falcon looked around warily, before making a signal. Three more shadows melted out of the gloom, all garbed in black, their silver hair hidden beneath hoods. One of them held a long, slender rifle. It glowed with the light of the holographic scope on top of the barrel._

_ "Clear," the lead falcon said._

_ She proceeded to a small door. It was padlocked. With a twist of her right hand, a wispy tendril of purple magic extended from her finger. It wrapped itself around the lock and cracked it open in a flash._

_ Quietly, the four falcons entered the pitch dark of the hangar. Their eyes dilated, then glowed with an eerie cyan light—the hangar was now bright as day. Eight drones were parked inside, fastened to the ground with wrought-iron chains and thick ropes. Four of them were small, with only twenty foot wingspans—ambush strikers, equipped with light machine guns._

Too weak,_ thought the lead falcon._ We need bombs.

_The four falcons proceeded through the hangar. Behind the four striker drones were four heavier planes. Their coal-black titanium plating, forty-foot wingspans, and bloated underbellies belied their identities._

_ "Bombers," said the lead falcon. She raised both hands above her head and shut her eyes for a fleeting moment. Suddenly, all of the ropes and chains fastening the planes snapped, releasing all four bomber drones._

_ One falcon inspected the drones. "Fancy. Could definitely do a lot of damage." He shook his head in mild amusement. "They kept them loaded and fueled for us."_

_ "Lazy-ass avians," the falcon with the rifle spat. "If we'd made them a bit more productive, they'd probably be able to hold their own against those snakes. We wouldn't have to give 'em so much of our stuff."_

_ "At least they make good bombs," the third falcon commented, crawling under one drone to check its payload. "Makes sense. Those crows and sparrows shit all over the place when they fly."_

_ The three falcons chuckled, but were immediately silenced by a glare from their impatient leader._

_ "Are they good or not?" she asked._

_ "They're more than good," said a falcon. She stood back and looked thoughtful for a moment. "We might just blow that train to smithereens. How's that for a victory bang?"_

_ The lead falcon nodded. "Fire them up. The sooner we get to serpent land, the better."_

_ The three falcons nodded. Each one stood in front of a drone and focused their magic on the cockpit. The lights within each plane abruptly lit up. With a low purring sound, then a menacing growl, the engines of the drones started up and idled._

_ "Hurry up and open the door before we all suffocate to death," said the falcon with the rifle._

_ The lead falcon glanced at the enormous hangar doors. With a shuddering clang, they inched open._

_ "Well, they certainly know we're here now."_

_ The lead falcon started up the final drone. Then, the four falcons guided the drones out of the hangar and onto the tarmac, using nothing but their manipulative blue and purple magic._

_ A dozen shouts echoed from the barracks. The falcons turned to see a few armed avians flying toward them, utterly bewildered that someone was stealing their drones._

_ "Um, Syfka?" a falcon said nervously._

_ The lead falcon raised a hand. A black wave of magic shot out and slammed into the birds. They fell to the ground, their rib cages crushed by the force of the blow._

_ "Quickly, before they sound the alarm," said Syfka._

_ The falcons rushed the ponderous flying machines to the end of the runway as quickly as they could. Then, all of them shifted to their second forms and took off into the sky. Below, the mind-controlled bomber drones began accelerating down the runway. One after another, they lifted off and followed the falcons south toward serpiente lands._

_ Once all of the heavy planes were up in the air, the falcons regrouped in flight. They communicated telepathically in their second forms._

"D'you hear any alarms?"_ said Syfka._

"Negative, I think, though by now they've probably discovered the missing drones and the unconscious soldiers,"_ replied the falcon with the rifle._

"We didn't leave any traces, did we? The last thing we want is them suspecting we're doing something."

_Syfka turned her aplomado head and gazed at the drones flying above them, still under the influences of their magic._

"It'll be too late by the time they do,"_ she replied._


	10. Kiss Peace Goodbye

**A/N:** I'm back. This next chapter in the story is a bit long. But don't worry. You'll be getting pleeeenty of action soon...

* * *

><p>"Danica!"<p>

I bolted upright in bed. The shout had shocked me out of sleep so suddenly that my heartbeat was pounding in my ears. I gazed blearily at the figure standing in the light of the open doorway.

"Wh-what?" I mumbled incoherently.

"C'mon, get out of bed, quick! I don't have time to explain. You'll be briefed on everything once we get down to the war room," said the figure, who I know recognized as a visibly panicked Andreios.

"Are we under attack? What's the big emergency?" I asked as I fumbled out of bed and hurriedly pulled on some clothes, despite the fact that Rei was standing there watching me change. Well then, this had better be something. The crow was going to have a very, ahem, _irritated_ hawk on his hands if whatever he was dragging me to was a dud.

He groaned with such absolute despair that my skin crawled. His next words made it worse.

"Zane and his family…oh, just hurry up, for god's sake! Your mother and all the other commanders are waiting for you."

With that, I promptly shut my mouth and followed Rei down to floor 140, where the war room was situated. A central command post and briefing hall, the war room wasn't a place that I visited often in the Keep. The last time I'd been there was the year Vasili was killed, when the serpiente were on the verge of decimating Tayin'kurtze.

Rei shoved open the double doors of the war room. Inside, a long table lined with chairs filled the center. The generals and flight commanders of our army stood lined up along the sides. They glanced over as I entered, their expressions mirroring that of Rei's. At the far end of the table, I saw my mother standing with her back to me, facing a large screen.

"Mom? What's going on?" I asked, dropping all formality upon feeling the heavy atmosphere within the war room.

She turned slowly toward me, her mournful eyes burdened by the bad news I was yet to hear.

"Shardae…Danica, look."

She stepped away from the screen, and I beheld the chilling image before my eyes.

At first, all I saw was an enormous crater in the ground, smoking slightly. It took me several moments to see the scattered train cars, the mangled railway, and the numerous infernos blazing among the ruins of Zane's bullet train. In fact, fires were blazing everywhere, catching on the nearby grass fields and forest, quickly spreading in an uncontrollable wild fire. I saw several fire trucks and dozens of tiny figures attempting to fight the encroaching flames.

Someone spoke. It was Karashan, a commander of a flight of high-ranking ravens.

"We intercepted this footage from serpiente broadcasts. Their communications are in chaos right now. I don't think many of them have fully realized what has happened yet."

I shook my head, as though doing so would free me from my dazed state. "Zane…Irene…are they alright?"

The raven shook her head. Her short brown hair swayed slightly with the movement. "As far as we can tell, there are no survivors."

"Our aircraft experts have already examined this footage," said Gerald, another veteran commander, "and they've concluded that the train was bombed from above. The serpiente don't have aircraft, so they're out of the equation. That leaves the falcons, the humans, or an avian assassin. We've already discounted the humans. They have little to do with us, and wouldn't gain anything by interfering with our affairs."

Rei spoke up. "Has there been anything new in the investigation so far?"

A crow in a Tayin'kurtze police uniform replied. "We have a report from the Ridgefield military airbase that just came in a few minutes ago."

"Ridgefield? That airfield is very close to the front lines, isn't it?"

"Yes. The report said that at about 11:30 PM tonight, a break-in occurred at the airfield's hangar. Four B-25 bomber drones were hijacked and stolen. One soldier was found dead with a sniper round in his throat, while three others are in critical condition with severe chest trauma."

"11:30…what time is it now?" Rei asked.

"Ten minutes to two."

"That's about two hours. More than enough time to fly those bombers into serpiente lands."

I found myself grinding my teeth in agitation. "Do you have any suspects yet?" I asked.

The crow nodded. With everyone's rapt attention on him, he picked up a nearby remote and pressed a button. The screen flashed and switched to a different scene.

"Ridgefield sent us this surveillance footage. This shows the grounds in front of the hangar."

The screen was pretty bright, most likely because of installed night-vision technology in the camera. The recording time in the upper right-hand corner showed the time as 11:24 PM. As I watched, a figure strolled from off-camera toward the hangar. The figure's hair glowed white against the darker background.

"There was one guard stationed in the outpost tower," said the crow as the video progressed.

A spotlight on the tower became animated and started sweeping toward the figure. When it fell on the figure, the crow paused the video.

"Do any of you recognize that person?" he asked.

Despite the video's low quality, I had no trouble identifying the figure. The white hair gave it all away.

"That can't be…Syfka?" I asked incredulously.

He didn't answer. The room was deathly quiet.

Rei broke the silence. "Of course. Has to be her." He turned to me. "Remember her argument with Zane at the peace conference? How she claimed that peace between us and the serpiente would never work?"

I nodded. "I should've seen this coming. It was so obvious," I murmured.

A look of defeated acceptance crossed Rei's face as he said, "Whether or not you saw it coming no longer matters. What's clear right now is that Syfka and her falcons have killed the remaining members of the serpiente royal family and have framed us for the crime." He looked at the police officer. "Is there anything else in the footage?"

We viewed the rest of the video in somber silence. We watched as Syfka and three other cohorts broke into the hangar, assassinating the sentry with a well-placed sniper shot. After a few minutes of the video had elapsed, the four falcons left the hangar with the four bombers in tow. A wave of surprise passed through the group upon seeing the pilotless bombers following the falcons.

"How are they doing that?"

"It has to be magic. Has to be."

Three soldiers came out to stop the falcons. Syfka bowled them over with a single sweeping gesture. Her falcon magic was hard to spot on the video, but I could still see it.

"That explains the chest trauma."

The four falcons led the bombers to the runway. Within minutes, all of them vanished into the night sky.

"And that's all of the footage we have," said the police officer.

There was a collective sigh as the anticipation drained from the room. I rubbed my eyes, suddenly realizing how tired I still was.

"So where does all this leave us?" I said, only slightly less confused.

"In a very serious predicament," my mother spoke for the first time. "If I'm not mistaken, Karashan, your recon teams have already discovered the serpiente amassing for an attack?"

My breath hitched in my throat.

Karashan nodded. "Had we still been fighting the serpiente, there would instantly be peace with the deaths of the serpiente's leaders." She fidgeted uncomfortably. "At least, that was the theory.

"Instead, the serpiente have rallied together to avenge their fallen leaders. They definitely feel betrayed, though they don't realize we are not the culprits. Their soldiers are willing to do anything to bring us down now that they no longer have their royal family to look up to.

"The fact of the matter is this, Ms. Shardae. Currently, we are looking at the largest serpiente offensive to date. We're talking about the entire serpiente army, roughly five hundred thousand troops, bearing down on Tayin'kurtze. I've already received reports that they've obliterated several outposts. With a force that size, there's nothing our soldiers can do to hold off for any length of time. It won't be long before they break through our defense lines and move into the city."

This night was getting worse and worse. "Isn't there anything we can do? Can't we show them this surveillance footage and prove to them that we aren't guilty of murdering their king?"

The looks I got in return weren't good.

"The serpiente aren't listening to reason right now," said Gerald. "They're driven by the fire and anger in their hearts to avenge their king's death. If we show them this footage, they'll just claim that we're faking it to cover up our own tracks, before continuing their attack."

"This leaves one option for us," said my mother. "I've declared a state of emergency in Tayin'kurtze. All military personnel are going to evacuate the city's populace further inland to escape the serpiente attack."

Gerald shrugged. "We can't fight or reason with the serpiente. So the only thing we can do is run."

So that was it, then. The falcons hijacked our planes and killed Zane and his family, framing us in the process. The serpiente were attacking in retaliation and were not going to stop at any cost. We were just going to run from them while they leveled our cities and towns.

I needed coffee. I _really_ needed coffee.

"How long do you think we have, Karashan?" I asked.

"Until daybreak, at the most. About four or five hours."

Good lord. This was absolutely horrible.

"Tayin'kurtze is a big city. Can we really evacuate everyone before then?"

"The evacuation has started already," said my mother. "The first few convoys of refugees are heading out of Tayin'kurtze toward Vasi'pratera. If everything goes as planned, Tayin'kurtze should be empty an hour before the serpiente arrive."

Has anything gone as planned lately, mother?

My mother raised her chin, a subtle gesture that signaled the dismissal of this meeting. "Danica will stay in my convoy, along with Andreios and the royal flight. Go out and make sure all other convoys make it safely and swiftly out of the city."

With that, the meeting was ended.

The nightmare, however, had only just begun.


	11. Ambush!

The hall was dark, quiet. I gingerly opened the oak door and gently closed it behind me. I felt along the wall for the light switch. With a flick, the room lit up with a soft, ambient glow of pale golden light.

I was supposed to be in the courtyard with the rest of the convoy for the evacuation. Mother had protested against my returning here—though she knew it was a common avian custom, she said that we were too short on time for me to do it. Rei, however, had stood in for me, saying that he would follow me up to the hall. Reluctantly, she had conceded.

Now that I was here, a mix of emotions suddenly poured into me. Anger, sadness, hope, relief—they all stewed together to form a blank, neutral slate; it was fortunate, too, as I had no time for emotions right now. I had to go in there, grab it, and leave ASAP.

"It's at the end of the hall," said Rei beside me.

My footsteps echoed on the marble floor as I proceeded through the memorial hall. Situated a few floors beneath my suite, the hall was first instituted by my great-grandmother Caylan in the 1930's. It served as the place where the prized possessions and priceless memorabilia of the Shardae family line were kept. As I walked, I spotted numerous odds and ends: a golden necklace, several porcelain tea cups, a silken shawl, and a small hand mirror with a bullet hole in it. (Common legend had it that Caylan's sister, the owner of the mirror, was out walking the battlefields eighty years ago, the same way I do today. She was singing to a mortally wounded avian soldier when a serpiente sniper fired a shot at her chest. Her life was saved when the mirror, tucked in the front pocket of her combat wear, stopped the bullet in its tracks.)

At the end of the hall was a giant glass wall. Behind the glass, hanging on racks, was an arsenal of rifles, some dating back to the 1800's. In avian society, it is common practice to pass down weapons in the family that were used in the avian-serpiente war. In ancient times, this meant swords, knives, and spears. These days, rifles were passed down instead, some having been in the family for many generations.

I scanned the array of firearms, looking for my target. It didn't take me long to find it—it was so much larger than any of the other rifles in the racks. Xavier's anti-vehicular sniper rifle was propped in a corner, an oddball among the wooden rifles around it. My brother had always been a nonconformist; while everyone else in the family had sleek, wooden rifles, Xavier had gone out of the ballpark and chosen a heavy, bulky rifle made entirely from steel, chrome, and platinum. It certainly made for something new. During his time out on the front lines, Xavier had been able to disable multiple humvees and tanks with his penetrating rounds.

Now that Tayin'kurtze was sure to fall to the serpiente, I wanted to take Xavier's rifle and keep it safely with me. Sure, its heavy design would slow me down as I flew, but I could easily compensate for that. I just couldn't bear the idea that hours from now the serpiente would be charging through, likely destroying everything of the Shardae line that they could find.

"I remember the first day that your brother walked out onto the front lines with that rifle," Rei said as he handed me a ring of keys. "It's the copper one."

I unlocked a small panel and reached inside for the Barret. Grasping it firmly by its metal barrel, I heaved it out of the glass showcase. "He must have been a sight."

Rei nodded as we turned to leave. "He was like all of the other young recruits: confident, energetic, patriotic. He fit in very well with the other men. Quickly became a favorite."

I shifted the weight of the rifle on my back. "He wasn't like that for long, Rei. He soon realized the truth." I shook my head mournfully. "The war wasn't a game."

"It wasn't. It took the deaths of several of his close comrades for Xavier to realize that," Rei continued. "He definitely changed after that, became less of a recruit and more of a veteran. But he kept coming back to the front lines," Rei elbowed me lightly, "just like you."

I shrugged wearily. The recent events were taking their toll on me. "I can't hide within the Hawk's Keep while my people go out there and die for me on the front lines. Xavier couldn't hide, either." I brushed a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. "He wanted to be there."

We reached the entrance of the memorial hall. As Rei opened the door and let me through, he said, "Xavier was a true golden hawk—proud of his nation and his people. If he was still alive, he'd probably want us to make our last stand here in Tayin'kurtze." He closed the door and looked at me, admiration and affection in his eyes. "Hawks aren't cowards. They're heroes."

His words lifted my mood, but only momentarily. For if Rei was correct, if Xavier would truly want us to defend Tayin'kurtze to the last rifle round…then we were dealing my beloved, deceased brother the greatest dishonor possible.

* * *

><p>I was still pondering this thought several hours later, as the sun began its sanguine climb up the horizon. Our convoy was silent, a group of forty sparrows, crows, and ravens with two golden hawks tagging along. We concentrated on flying, our avian forms cutting swiftly through the air as we crossed over sprawling countryside. Behind us echoed the ominous, bone-shaking blasts of serpiente artillery; Tayin'kurtze had already fallen, its faraway cityscape smoking like a funeral pyre.<p>

My home…our home…it was all being torn down, brick by painful brick, by a people who days ago had been our new allies. So suddenly they reverted to their hostile stance. Peace was nothing but a bitter joke—a joke that the falcon Syfka had the audacity to play on us.

For now, the evacuation of Tayin'kurtze occupied the minds of the avian people. But I knew it was only a matter of time before we would turn our attention to the aplomado who had ruined this peace. The relationship between the avians and the falcons had always been slightly strained. Syfka's actions would likely send things over the edge. The moment the serpiente pause their advance (_if_ they ever do), my mother will likely send delegates to Ahnmik, demanding an explanation for the falcon's actions. If Syfka was acting alone, per say, then I didn't foresee much trouble; the Empress Cjarsa would brand her associate guilty and likely have Syfka's head hacked off.

But there was another more troubling possibility. What if Syfka had been sent by Cjarsa herself to break the peace between the avians and the serpiente? What if they had intended all along to return us to war…no matter the cost? The prospect chilled me, but I couldn't think of any significant way the falcons might benefit from returning us to war. All the reasons I could think of were reasons I pondered back at the peace conference. They still remained just as unlikely now.

Then why did they do it? Why?

My thoughts were abruptly cut off by an odd sound from below: a low, growling sound coming from a stand of trees before us. I tilted my head, listening closely. Suspicious…

Rei was flying to my starboard side. I turned my streamlined head and clacked my beak to get his attention.

Too late.

The woods exploded with gunfire. Branches and leaves were shredded as a storm of bullets riddled out from the undergrowth. Chaos ruled—birds shrieked and squawked, bewildered by this unexpected attack. It didn't do them any good. Half of the convoy was dead already before the Royal Flight guards could shift into their demi-forms and grab their weapons.

I screamed, my shrill hawk cry piercing the air. I folded my wings and dove for the ground, trying desperately to find some cover before the deadly machine guns could rip me apart. Bullets whizzed haphazardly around me as blood pounded in my hawk ears. They stripped off some of my feathers as I slammed into the ground, knocking the air out of my lungs. My head ringing from the impact, I quickly shifted into my human form, grabbed Xavier's rifle from its place on my back, and half-crawled, half-wriggled my way through the tall, yellow grasses.

I was stopped short by the sound of a dozen guns being locked and loaded.

"Drop the rifle, hawk."

I didn't hear the command at first. My breath came in short gasps through gritted teeth as I took in the scene around me.

"Do what she says or we turn you into minced meat."

In my years of walking the battlefields of war, I had never experienced a terror like I felt now. I was practically on the verge of tears as, with shaking hands, I lowered the rifle to the ground and raised my hands above my head.

There were at least two dozen of them, standing there with their sub-machine guns and shotguns pointed at me. At the forefront was a pair of serpents with white-blond hair, slowly edging toward me, guns raised. The guy held a tactical shotgun with a hefty suppressor on the end—custom fitted, it looked like. The girl held a pair of mean-looking Uzis, one in each hand, femme-fatale style. Behind the group, crawling out of the wrecked trees, was a titanium-plated tank, its barrel and body gleaming a deep black. A machine-gun turret perched above the barrel, a serpiente soldier manning it from behind.

This was unbelievable. The serpiente were supposed to be back in Tayin'kurtze. What was this contingent doing out here?

A smirk plastered itself across the girl's face as she approached. "If it isn't the heir to the Tuuli Thea herself. We just scored the jackpot, Ailbhe."

The two white-haired snakes circled around me, wolves admiring their catch. "Never thought I'd live to see her, let alone catch her. She's got quite a figure, eh, Adi?" said the man, shoving the butt of his shot gun against my back. I stumbled forward. A second shove, harder this time, sent me onto my knees.

The girl stooped to pick up my rifle. She stood in front of me, apparently showing off her own physique. "Not with those disgusting combat fatigues on. She looks more like a slut than anything."

Look who's talking. I could scarcely call the girl's attire combat gear. She was wearing some sort of full-body suit that hugged her slim body. The black fabric circled her delicate neck, flowed down her shoulders and around her breasts, slid over her stomach and down her legs. The only substantial thing on her was a pair of black boots that reached just below her knees. She wore no helmet, letting her waist-length hair ripple in the wind. Revealing, perhaps, but definitely not smart. A BB gun could have pierced that fabric.

"She _is_ a slut," said the guy, who were substantially more armor. He shoved the butt of his gun under my neck and forced my head up. His ice-blue eyes gleamed with a burning enmity. "She and her feathered chickens killed our Diente."

Before I could protest, I was knocked onto my back from a kick to my face. I coughed, trying to breathe, while blood gushed from my crushed nose.

The girl stamped a boot over my throat. "It was all a trap, wasn't it, bird? It was your way of killing him without looking bad. Bring peace to our people—oh, so _valiant_, so _selfless_, so _courageous_." She bent down and shoved the barrel of an Uzi into my forehead. "You didn't kill him. You _murdered_ him. Murdered a man who had never, not once in his life, ever touched a feather of your kind. Murdered him after luring him in with promises of peace and prosperity, lying like the rest of your kind.

My nose was gushing like Niagara Falls. I was flat on my back, with this snake pinning a machine gun to my head, while another stood over me, looking ready to combine birdshot with my intestines. Yet it still wasn't enough to prevent me from recklessly saying, "Sounds personal. Didn't think Zane would go for a snake like you. Too bitchy, you know?"

She would've killed me right there had a shot not taken her in the left arm. She cried out in pain, dropping one of her Uzis. Instantly, I grabbed her leg, threw her off me, rolled over, and sprang to my feet. I shifted in a split second and took off into the air, flapping my golden wings for all they were worth.

"Fly, Danica!"

Tears combined with my still running nose as I sped swiftly into the sky, out of range of their guns. Rei's command was his last words before serpiente rounds tore him apart.


	12. Hawk vs Wild

I didn't know how long I sprinted through the air, pumping my wings, my ragged breath searing my throat. Panic and fear were the only things driving me as I fled. All I could think of were the dead—my mother, Rei, all those helpless civilians—and the serpiente who had slaughtered them. I could almost feel the presence of those guns, pointing at me, ready to kill me no matter how far I flew.

Dehydration eventually brought me down. Heaving, nearly gagging, I spotted a tiny creek below a copse of wiry, thorny trees. Pulling up my cramping wings, I landed clumsily along the bank, shifted to human form, and began scooping the water as quickly as I could. It was cold and bitter, filled with grits and sand, but it was such a relief that I almost choked, coughing and spitting out some of the water, before dipping my hands into the creek for more.

Once I had wet my throat and quenched my thirst, I sat back on my haunches and hung my head, my eyes closed. Of all the paths I thought the future would take…none of them had been this one. It was a complete disaster: my homeland devastated, my family, friends, and people butchered. And the culprit, the true perpetrator of the crime, was likely back in Ahnmik by now, basking proudly in her work and the consequences of it. Syfka…that monstrous _beast_…I wanted to—had to—_kill her…_

I sobbed uncontrollably for all the things that were lost, all the things I would never get back. Tayin'kurtze, demolished. Nacola Shardae, dead. Rei, dead. Zane Cobriana, dead…

Danica Shardae, dead.

Wearily, I stood up and surveyed my surroundings. The grasslands and forest had ended hours ago; around me were endless expanses of sand dunes, broken intermittently by stands of dry brush subsisting on underground stores of water. Beyond were high, bare mountains: the Limoyä Mountains, peaks towering above the dunes beneath. The sun at its zenith beat down on my back, while the dry air parched my tongue. This was a different world, now.

This was the Jarkaroy Desert.

I took stock of what I had. At my hip was my 9 millimeter handgun—my only weapon now, without Xavier's rifle. Stuffed in my right boot was my knife, less a weapon more than a tool. On my back was a small knapsack. I took it off, opened it, and rifled through the contents: a packet of salted crackers, a water bottle, and a thick woolen sweater. The rest of my belongings had been with the porters in our convoy; they were dead now, my belongings likely plundered by the serpiente.

That was it. Aside from the dirty, bloody combat fatigues I wore, I had nothing else on me.

I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow, smearing dirt across my face. I touched my nose gingerly—it still hurt, but the blood had clotted by now. My throat was sore from where the snake had stamped her boot, while sharp aches emanated from where the shotgun soldier had hit me. I was hot, tired, and unwilling to fly any further. I could've just given up right there. Given up and let the desert take me, ending the conflict once and for all.

Yet, once more, the reckless spirit inside me would not accept defeat. To die out here, helpless and pitiful, while my people were going through absolute hell was not something I desired. No. Death was not an option for today. Or tomorrow.

Or ever.

Steeling myself for triple-digit temperatures, I placed one foot in front of the other and entered the desert.

* * *

><p><em> Hot sand. Scalding rocks. Brush as dry as brittle bones. The sun burning like a nuclear furnace overhead, vaporizing me and any scant life in this desert. I needed to find water; my bottle was running dangerously low.<em>

_ Is that a pool? An oasis? No, just a mirage. I think I've had dozens of those in the past few hours._

_ Just keep moving. Don't stop. Put one foot in front of the other. That's it. Keep going…_

_ My footprints etch a shallow line into the sand, a lonesome parade accompanying me through the desert. The wind picks up, blows sand across the prints. No trace. No life. No memory…_

* * *

><p><em> The nuclear furnace is setting, at last. Airborne on tired wings and the desert wind, I glide my way over the inhospitable terrain. Still searching…for water. Have to find shelter before dark, or my powerful hawk eyes will become useless.<em>

_ There. A cave. Cool and moist. I circle down, shift to human, and inhale. It smells of relief._

_ I hear trickling near the back. I feel my way through until my hands meet something slippery. I'm plastering my tongue to the wet stone before I know it. Fumbling for my water bottle, placing it under the dripping water. My mind clears, no longer inhibited by thirst. Stomach growling. I fetch the crackers and devour them. It's not much, but it keeps the menacing beast quiet…_

* * *

><p><em> Cold night inside cave. Slept with sweater, still chilly. Hungry, too. I don't see anything edible within a hundred miles. The monster returns, growling for more. I wish I could hush it, somehow…<em>

_ There's water here. There should be _some_ life at least. If not, I could soar through the air, look out for more water and wildlife. Maybe even hunt as a hawk. That's it—no need for my gun or knife. I should go, before the nuke reactor returns…_

* * *

><p><em> Warm, succulent meat. So goooooood. Shoving my beak back into the jackrabbit, tear out muscle and slimy intestines. I gobble it all down, practically swallowing it whole. My beak and talons are steeped in blood, my golden feathers marred by dust and the struggle with the prey. It doesn't matter. The meat is all I crave right now.<em>

_ A sound from my left. I lift my head out of the carcass and glance around. A figure slips in from behind a boulder—a scraggly desert fox, juvenile. It looks hungry, eyeing my dinner. I pounce over the meat and cover it with my wings, hissing venomously at the animal. The thing darts off immediately, and I resume my meal…_

* * *

><p><em> Danica Shardae no longer exists. She perished long ago by that small creek.<em>

_ I am now the Huntress._

_ I abandoned my human form days ago, along with everything except my knife and pistol. The desert would kill a human easily, but a hawk has a chance to survive. I hunt by day, rest by night, and make everyplace my roost. I am the alpha predator of the desert; I rule these burning sands. I should stay out here, a Tuuli Thea of my own stretch of barren land._

_ Another hawk, half a mile downwind, soars on the great thermals spiraling above the sands. I hear him scream, declaring his presence, as he slowly but deliberately edges toward my territory. He's not hunting—he's approaching me for a different reason. We close in, a queen and a wandering exile. He flies under me, exposing his underbelly, calling for my permission._

_ I deny it._

_ The tiercel makes a beeline for his feathery hide, scared off by my aggressive charge. He got the message: I'm not available._

_ Watching his flapping form melt away into the horizon, my heart aches suddenly. I'm not available. For my heart is elsewhere. I am still in love with the crow who sacrificed his life for me, for the cobra who dreamed of peace for his children._

_ I'm not available._

* * *

><p>As evening approached, and I searched for a suitable resting place for the night, I spotted something far away. A glowing light sparkles beneath an outcropping of stone. I focus my hawk eyes, trying to discern details in the dying light. I see an outline of a vehicle, a humvee, from what I can see. The light comes from its powerful headlights, bathing a swath of flat sand. Curious, I dip lower and glide toward the parked vehicle.<p>

I spotted moving figures as I got closer. I counted four. They were pitching a couple of tents out in the open, their supplies and weapons strewn around. I gasped sharply as I spotted two white heads in the darkness; no doubt they were the white vipers, still hunting their lost quarry.

They wanted a hunt. I was going to give them one.

Flying as silently as I could, I dropped low and pulled up on the stone outcrop, not twenty feet from them. I heard their voices, laughing at some smart aleck's joke. Three guys, one girl. This time, she had her hair in a ponytail, though it was a lot shorter than I'd remembered it to be. One of the guys said something, and the other guys chuckled. The girl replied, and they all burst out laughing.

The rage seethed within me. Danica Shardae would not have wanted to slaughter them. But, then again, Dancia Shardae was dead.

I scanned the campground. They were pretty heavily armed; I saw tactical shotguns lying by their packs. They looked like automatics, .12 or .10 gauge. I just had my pistol and knife. If I just ran in screaming, they'd butcher me in two shots.

I glanced over at the humvee. Sitting on top of the humvee was a .50 caliber machine gun turret.

The next few seconds were a blur. Let's see…

I shifted into hawk form and sprinted through the air to the humvee and landed behind the gun and shifted back to human and locked and loaded the gun before any of them could respond and held the trigger and spilled fiery hell ALL OVER THEM.

I didn't stop until the gun overheated and I was forced to let go of the scalding metal. Gazing beyond the smoking barrel, I glimpsed utter destruction. The tents were disarray, torn to shreds by hundreds of bullets, as were the equipment and weapons. All four of the serpiente soldiers were dead—all but one of them, who squirmed painfully where he lay.

I hopped off the back of the humvee and walked toward the bodies. To my satisfaction, the two white vipers were dead, and good riddance to them. I headed toward the injured serpiente soldier, intending to end his life either with a bullet through his head or a knife in his chest.

All thoughts of killing fled when a stared into a _boy's_ face.

He'd looked older from afar; up close, he couldn't have been older than sixteen. His dark hair was tangled, coated in sand when he fell. His face was contorted in pain so severe that tears poured down his face. Glancing down, I almost lost my dinner; there was little left of his body.

It was one thing to walk among dying soldiers on the battlefield, comforting them in the final hours of their life.

It was another thing entirely to know that _I brutally ended this young man's life._

The kid saw me standing above him. Even in his near-death state, he still had the strength to stare at me, bewilderment and anger in his eyes. He gasped for breath, said, "Hawk," and spat a bloody clot at my feet.

This time, I deserved the contempt.

Too saddened to even consider helping the poor boy, I turned around to leave the camp. Behind me, I heard a scream of agony, a sob of pain that ended in a silent moan. I heard no more afterwards.

What had I become?

* * *

><p><em>I try to forget it. Yet every time I close my eyes, that haunting boy's face surfaces again. I can't sleep at night, knowing that I'm a murderer. A cold-blooded killer. A monster that yearns to spill blood over the sand. I begin to wonder whether I had ever actually wanted this war to end. Whether I had just convinced myself of noble intentions, only to succumb to my demonic wants when the opportunity arose.<em>

_ Perhaps I am just that. A demon._

_ The Huntress is dead. She died back there in the camp alongside the boy, ripped apart by a storm of .50 caliber bullets. A husk is all that's left of her. A husk that wishes the desert would take her already…_

* * *

><p><em> The desert is taking too long. I'm parched, starving, burning under the sun, waiting for it to cook me alive. But it's taking too long. It's felt like hours, days, weeks under this blaze. I want to die already. Can't nature at least give me that?<em>

_ I remember the pistol and the knife. I draw the pistol from my hip, turn off the safety, and put it to my head. I pull the trigger. Nothing happens. I pull it repeatedly, to no avail. Damn thing is jammed. I toss it against the rocks in shear rage._

_ I take out the knife. It can't fail me. The blade reflects the sun's light, blinding me. I hold it in my shaking hands, urging it to drive into my gut, to spill my heartache all over the sand. But my hands do not obey me. They shake, loosen, and eventually drop the knife. It clangs on the stone and rolls out of my reach._

_ Sorrow blinds me to the world. I cry._

* * *

><p><em> I think I crawled under the shade some time during the afternoon. I'm seeing things from the past: Rei's beautiful face, the bombed train, the Hawk's Keep in all its grandeur, Zane with his pistol, Xavier with his rifle, the white vipers mocking me, mother cradling me in her arms, the aplomado falcon Syfka. They dance and shimmer before my eyes, their voices echoing, chastising me, tempting me.<em>

_ "Fly, Danica!"_

_ "Shardae…Danica, look…"_

_ "…and so, it is with grief and longing that we gather here today to burn Xavier Shardae's body…"_

_ "Of course, the one thing I _really_ want to talk about is you, darlin'."_

_ "Hawks aren't cowards. They're heroes."_

_ "You didn't kill him. You _murdered _him. Murdered a man who had never, not once in his life, ever touched a feather of your kind…"_

_ "I wish to you sunshine, my dear one, my dear one, and treetops for you to soar past…"_

_ "You didn't kill him. You _murdered_ him…"_

_ "Love was always a stronger emotion among the serpents than hate was. It was only a matter of time before their grief and sorrow drove them to insanity…"_

_ "…didn't kill him."_

_ "…before it drove them to the avians._

_ "…murdered him…"_

_ "Danica? Dani, is that really you?"_

_ "Love was always a stronger emotion among the serpents than hate was…"_

_ "…kill him. You _murdered_…"_

_"…before it drove them…"_

_ "…you _murdered _him…"_

_ "…to the avians…"_

_ "…_murdered _him…"_

_ "…the avians…"_

_ "…_murdered…_"_

* * *

><p>I spiraled down into an eternal hell.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Whoo. That was one heck of a chapter to write. Things look reaaaally bad for our favorite golden hawk right now. She's on death's doorstep. It seems like nothing can save her now.

And yet...perhaps one of the voices above was not a hallucination. ;)


	13. A Not So Cheesy Reunion

**A/N:** Sorry for the very long hiatus. I'll explain more on it at the end of the chapter.

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><p>I felt my heartbeat thudding in my head. A rhythmic beat; I hung on to it, weaving my conscience around it. It was my world, the only reprieve from my cold hell.<p>

Heartbeat. Wait…does that mean that I'm…

"…ani…"

What was that? Sounds like someone is trying to talk to me.

"…awake?"

My cold hell expanded quickly. I felt warmth on my skin. I saw an ambient glow—a vague banana-yellow, or is it dark orange? I couldn't tell. I heard scraping, crackling, a faint dripping. I smelled dankness and mildew and mustiness. I tasted…well, my mouth was chalk dry.

"Yoo-hoo. Hey, Danica."

A shape loomed over me. Who is it? What do they want with me?

"Remember me, Danica?" The person smiled when I gasped.

For I was looking into a dead man's face.

His skin was caked with dirt and filth, his hair a tangled catastrophe. Scratches and cuts covered his face, and perhaps his face was a bit gaunter than I remembered. But all of the traits were there. Black hair. Pale skin. Red, fiery eyes. That smirk that's characteristically…cobra.

Zane Cobriana…alive? Me…alive? Both of us, together?

And I thought pigs couldn't fly.

I opened my mouth to say something, but was too parched to speak. Zane got me a water bottle upon seeing my condition. I gulped down the life-giving liquid greedily.

Okay, water's down. Now, questions.

"Danica—"

"Why the hell are you alive?"

That came out wrong.

"Well, I mean, when I heard of the bombing, and the train…there was nothing…'cause, I mean—"

Zane smiled wryly. "I've been asking myself that same question. So much has happened. I can't believe it's only been a week since the bombing." He lowered his gaze.

"A week?" I said. "How long have I been out?"

"Only a day," he replied with surprise. "You should've seen yourself. For the first few hours I thought you weren't going to make it." He shook his head. "I didn't expect to find _you_ of all people out here."

Ditto. "You have some explaining to do, Zane. 'Cause everyone thinks you're dead."

"You do, too. Story time?"

Quaint. Nostalgic, maybe. But definitely necessary.

Zane told me that on the night of the bombing, he was up late while the rest of his family was sleeping. While Irene and Charis were in their rooms, Zane was reading in a library near the front of the train, poring over old tomes, trying to locate any secrets to keeping peace. Well, oddly enough, that actually saved his life, if not the fragile peace between the avians and the serpiente. The bombs hit the center of the train, severing it in half. The front half of the train veered off the rails and crashed, while the back half exploded as it ran into itself. Zane said he'd been thrown out of the window when the library car slammed into the ground; somehow, he'd managed to escape with only minor injuries.

Still reeling from the sudden attack, Zane stumbled into the wilderness, which at the time was a small forest on the edge of the Jarkaroy Desert. He was alone, dazed, and without supplies, miles from any help. I didn't know if he was exaggerating or not, but either way, things sounded harsh for him.

"So all this time you thought I'd turned traitor on you and tried to kill you?" I asked anxiously.

"I did, for some time," he replied, "though I soon found out who the real culprit was."

A few days into his survival trek, Zane was ambushed by a trio of falcons. Apparently, when Syfka had seen only two bodies of the royal family recovered, she knew instantly that somehow her scheme had been foiled. So she sent out her guns to find and kill Zane—and, apparently, her guns had failed her.

"How in the world did you take down three armed falcons?" I asked incredulously. "They've got hi-tech guns _and_ magic."

"True," Zane replied, "but I had my pistol and stealth. Falcons are actually a lot clumsier than I thought."

I had noticed Zane's silenced pistol earlier (it practically seemed like his _mate_), but now I also noticed something else. Leaning against the cave wall was a gun I'd never seen before.

Following my gaze, Zane retrieved the gun and brought it to me. "I picked this off one of the falcons. I knew my pistol wasn't going to help me forever. So I thought using their weapons against them might be a better idea."

I would've gawked at Zane's actions of stripping his victims of equipment, but I was too entranced by the gun. It looked like an assault rifle cast in a strange metal that glistened in the firelight. The grips were worn and smooth, the barrel carved with symbols and figures. It had a small magazine, while the butt of the rifle was carved to fit perfectly against its shooter's shoulder. When I sighted down the barrel, a hologram popped up along the barrel showing ammunition, direction, scope, and targeting reticle.

"Wow. Very hi-tech," I murmered.

Zane continued, saying that Syfka and her falcons had pursued him into the Jarkaroy Desert. He had just lost his pursuers when he'd happened upon me in my delirious, half-dead state.

"Then I carried you to this cave, where you've been conked out until now." A silence passed between us, before he said, "If you're out here, Danica, in the Jarkaroy Desert, then things must've gone down the toilet, huh?"

I confirmed him, telling him about his people's attack on Tayin'kurtze. His expression looked disbelieving at first, before giving way to anger.

"How could they just _assume_? They didn't have any evidence suggesting your people had done it. It could've been the humans, or the falcons…damnit, they should've suspected the falcons first. Didn't any of them see her behavior at the peace conference?

"Syfka framed us, Zane. She hijacked our drones, flew them over into your lands, and bombed your train as you returned to Anlæro-pavara. I doubt your people could've come to any other conclusion."

He was still furious as I continued my story, telling him of the evacuation of Tayin'kurtze and the ambush of my convoy by serpiente forces. I left out the part about the two white vipers—I didn't know how deep Zane's relationship with that chick was, so I felt it best to avoid treading hazardous ground. By this point, he looked defeated.

"That couldn't have happened. I can understand retaliation, I guess. But my soldiers would never—and I mean _never_—strike Tayin'kurtze and slaughter civilians unless they had permission from either the royal house or the top generals. And if I remember correctly, I told my generals specifically to end all fighting against your troops."

Silence. I could hear Zane grinding his teeth.

After a moment's respite, I said, "Well, now that we're both up to date, I guess we should decide what to do about our hopeless situation."

"No doubt," he replied, stretching back and leaning on his elbows. "First things first, we need to get out of this godforsaken wasteland before the heat or Syfka's falcons kill us." He stood up. "Do you think you can walk yet?"

I still felt terrible, but with Zane's support I hobbled to my feet. I knew I wasn't going anywhere soon, however, and I told Zane so.

"We aren't leaving yet. I just want to see if we can get our bearings first." We slowly made our way outside the tiny cave. Situated in the side of a broad sandstone hill, the cave looked out on the expansive dunes of the desert. Heat simmered off the dunes, distorting the landscape for miles around. The sun was setting in the west, but its rays were still powerful enough to blind me. I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

"I think we're on Maeve's Rock," he said, gesturing at the summit of the hill above us. "It's a pretty big landmark. I think we can find our way back to our people from here."

Maeve's Rock. The name sounded familiar. "Wasn't Maeve an ancestor of your people?"

Zane nodded. "Legend has it that when the Cobriana family drove out Maeve and her white vipers, the only place they could escape to was this rock here in the Jarkaroy Desert."

_White vipers in the desert._

"This rock is very far from serpiente lands," Zane said. "Avian lands should be closer. We should head north toward Tayin'kurtze once you're strong enough." We turned around to head back into the cave. The heat was killing us already.

"Tayin'kurtze?" The serpiente held Tayin'kurtze. Going there would be akin to suicide.

"The serpiente still recognize me as their Diente. Once they find me alive and well, they should stop their slaughter and listen to actual sense."

Despite his assurances, I still felt deeply troubled. "They'd appreciate having you back. But I don't know if that will change their minds on who the enemy is."

"Don't worry, Danica," he said, squeezing my shoulder gently. "I'll change their minds."

I spent the rest of the evening recuperating. Zane went out as the sun went down. An hour later he returned, tired and winded, with a small jackrabbit in his hand. I was surprised; snakes were supposed to be superior hunters.

"I would rather have ambushed the rabbit and poisoned him. But, as it is, you can't eat meat laced with snake poison. So I had to catch it—by hand."

Feeling sorry for him, I decided to pitch in and help him skin the catch. Zane feared a fire may attract the falcons' attention, so we ate the meat raw. Thankfully, we shapeshifters have at least a mild tolerance to uncooked meat.

The temperature plummeted once the sun dipped below the horizon. Before long I was shivering beneath my filthy combat fatigues. Zane had an outdoor jacket he scrounged from one of the falcons; we ended up sharing the measly thing, huddled together in a dark, cold cave in the middle of the desert.

Still, it was nice.

"You know, Zane, technically we're still supposed to be together," I said. His cool skin did little to warm me, but I still preferred him to the cold hard stone.

Zane scoffed sarcastically. "As if our marriage can repair anything now. Though I wouldn't be surprised if the gossip magazines are still circulating us as a couple."

"If there are any left. I doubt the magazines would get much readership among the ruins of Tayin'kurtze."

"No, thanks to Syfka," he replied gloomily.

We sat in silence for a while, before he abruptly said, "Danica, have you ever killed in your lifetime?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Taken another's life? Perhaps before the peace treaty? I know you've gone out on the battlefields before, saw all the atrocities committed there. But did you ever take part?"

_Yes._

"No," I murmured anxiously. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I have. And considering what I'm trying to achieve for my people, the deaths I've caused are hypocrisy." He sighed heavily. In the glint of the darkness, I saw tears roll down his face.

"It's like the gods themselves are mocking me. Showing me how much of a damn idiot I am. I try to stop one war, but end up causing another one instead. I try to save lives, but end up taking them instead." He hung his head. "I'm a snake. Killing is what I do."

"You had to kill those falcons, Zane, or they would've killed you. It wasn't murder—it was self-defense," I said. "Much as I hate this violence, at least I know for sure that I'm not the sole cause of it."

"I'm not talking about the falcons, Danica," he replied. "Do you ever wonder why your people fear me so much? Why they say I have magical powers or cold cunning or devil's blood?

"It's because I've taken my fair share of your people's lives, Dani. The day my older brother Anjay died, I felt like putting a bullet through the head of every avian on the planet. No matter if there were innocent women or children who weren't responsible for Anjay's death—I wanted to kill them too, to watch them scream in bloody terror as I shoved my gun in their faces. We serpiente have a term for this madness. It's called _vhemka'sangui_—'fury blood'.

"I had to satisfy myself with two dozen avian soldiers instead. When I came back from the battlefields, bruised, beaten, and bloody, I just wanted to fall down, sleep, and forget that I'd slaughtered twenty-odd fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons. Instead, my people gave me this."

He unclasped a pin from a necklace. Holding it up to the scant light, I saw a rearing cobra's hood, fangs glistening, reflecting the light.

"It's called a _bellis_. It's given to serpiente soldiers who make notable achievements out in the field." His hand closed around it in a fist. "I got mine for manslaughter. For becoming a monster among your people."

The Arami of the serpiente did not look like a monster; he did not look like a hardened soldier worn and sculpted by war; he did not look like a handsome prince trying to woo a princess for her hand in marriage. Zane looked like…a boy. Like all of those other boys, avian and serpiente, who eagerly went to war and never returned.

Like Xavier, even.

"Zane," I said slowly, "you might have made mistakes you deeply regret back during the war. You might have killed my people and gotten rewarded by your own for doing so. But that's in the past. When you sent your sister Irene to us with your terms of peace, you chose to end the war when your people wanted to continue it. You had the courage to stand up for what was right. That alone is admirable enough."

"Admirable or not, it doesn't matter when all it does is plunge our people deeper into violence," Zane replied stubbornly.

"Our people are scared right now. Yours was expecting peace—they got your family's death instead. They want you back to lead them, to guide them to the peace you all want. You have to be there Zane—for your people, for your nation, and for your future."

He gazed off, pondering my words, before turning to me. "And you? When I found you, you were almost dead."

The memory rocked me; I bit my lip to keep the tears back. "I almost made that mistake, Zane. I almost thought my death would be meaningless in the face of things to come. But I'll be there for my people, Zane, if you'll be there for yours. And together, we can rally our people to fight against the true enemy."

"Syfka and her falcons?"

I nodded confidently, determination in my eyes. "We're gonna bring peace back Zane—one bullet at a time. And every one will be aimed at the aplomado."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Danica and Zane are back. And they've got vengeance on their minds. :)

I had originally intended to finish Hawksong: Modern Warfare before the end of summer. As you can plainly see, that hasn't happened. It's my junior year in high school right now, and I'm loads busier than in years past. I still intend on completing Hawksong:MW. I've gotten so far now that I don't want to just abandon the story-line. But do expect chapter uploads to be a bit slower. I'll do my best to wrap up the story as soon as possible, so just hang in there, my trusty fans. (And a delayed thank-you to your reviews. They mean so much to me.)


	14. Hot Pursuit

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. School's been hectic. Here's the next action-packed chapter.

* * *

><p>Under Zane's care I made an adequate recovery pretty quickly. I was able to support myself the next day, and walk around a bit by third. By the fourth day I felt strong enough to leave the desert.<p>

The problem was that the falcons found us first.

Anticipating the trip ahead, I left the cave and gazed out across the dunes. The desert had changed little in the weeks that I'd been in it. Same old heat, same old dry air, same old gritty sand and rocky terrain. I looked for the thermals, gauging their strength, trying to determine how fast they'd let me fly. For flight was the only feasible way to leave the Jarkaroy—the plan was for Zane to shift into his snake form and me into my hawk form, and then carry him across the desert.

That was when I spotted the three tiny dots wheeling in the sky to the north. At first I thought they were vultures looking for a meal. But when I shaded my eyes from the sun's glare and focused my hawk vision on the dots, I caught the unmistakable glint of metal on each bird's back. I ran back to the cave before the falcons could spot me and told Zane of our pursuers.

Zane shook his head. "They're bound to find us sometime. Syfka's had them combing the Jarkaroy inside and out. They won't stop until they find us or our corpses."

"What should we do?" I asked. "There's nowhere to hide up in the sky; I'll be spotted instantly. And the dunes aren't much better. This cave is the only hiding spot for miles around."

"And the one likeliest spot those falcons will check for a fugitive cobra and his hawk cohort. This falcon rifle has limited ammo, Dani," he said, hefting the rifle over his shoulder. "If they corner us in here, I doubt we'll be able to shoot our way out."

I thought for a moment. "Those falcons would have to shift into their demi-forms in order to shoot their rifles. I know from experience that it's hard to fly fast and straight while in a demi-form."

Zane caught my train of thought. "You're thinking that we can out-fly these falcons if we forget about shooting and just book it. But didn't you say there was a peregrine out there?"

That was the problem. "Peregrines are renowned for their speed. There is no way in a million years that I can escape a peregrine if she starts chasing me."

He nodded. "If that's the case, then we'll have to deal with her when the time comes." He checked the rifle he held. "This thing will probably just slow you down, huh? I guess it'd be better just to leave it here."

We headed to the entrance of the cave. Peeking my head out, I scanned the skies and saw the falcons still circling to the north. They were in between us and avian lands—I'd have to find some way to evade them.

"Let's shift, Zane," I said.

I felt my wings reach out, the golden feathers extending from the tip and back. My head streamlined, my eyes narrowed into the glaring irises of a hawk. I shrunk down as my legs turned into scaly legs, my feet into sharp black talons. A fan of brownish-gold tail feathers extended from my rear.

It wasn't until I'd shifted into my full form that I realized Zane was still staring at me. Twisting my head around, I saw him gazing at me in sheer fascination. I guess up to this point he hadn't seen an avian shift into bird form, or at least seen a golden hawk do so.

"Wow."

Lacking the power of speech (screeches, screams, and chirps were the only vocal sounds I could make in my hawk form), I flicked my head at him. He nodded.

Then it was my turn to be astounded.

The dark snakeskin rippled across his skin, manifesting as fluidly as water. His eyes flashed their scary garnet color. Then he tipped his head back as if to stretch himself, and he too shrunk, his body morphing into a long rope of snake. His tail stretched back, coiling in a scaly circle, while his hood reared up fearsomely, its white and silver markings like war paint on a demon's face. I guessed him to be at least six feet long—six feet of venomous, dangerous cobra, a far cry from the young man he'd previously been.

His forked tongue flicked in and out as he slithered toward me. I watched as he wound his way around my golden body, the slits of his eyes taking in my sleek, muscular bird form, before climbing onto me and winding himself around my neck and breast. His body was too long though; I'd have to carry the last three feet of his body in my talons as I flew.

Moving his head alongside my own, Zane flicked his tongue, then motioned toward the air before me.

It was now or never.

I spread my six-foot wings and powered my way into the air, beating furiously to gain altitude and speed. My hawk eyes narrowed; a translucent film slid over them, shielding them from the dust and flying dirt, as I switched into combat mode. Zane tucked his head beneath mine. I felt his body tighten anxiously as we left the ground far below.

I had to analyze the terrain and choose my strategy. The hot desert sun had already created numerous thermals and updrafts. I could feel them tugging at my primaries. I could circle up one of the thermals and then dive back down, using my speed to temporarily lose my pursuers. But of course the peregrine falcon in the group would catch up to me, and I'd have a fight on my talons. Perhaps I could escape among the maze of small dunes below—each one was large enough to hide me, and the various hills and troughs made a tunnel through which I could head north. But they could just fly up and spot me from above, before cutting me off. Or maybe I could forgo stealth and speed and just attack. The peregrine was the only one of the three that concerned me, so if I could single her out and incapacitated her before the others could react, I might have a chance at shaking them off. As I golden hawk, I was larger than any peregrine—but no, she had both a gun and magic, and so did her comrades. It'd be suicide no matter which way you looked at it.

Just then a powerful current gripped me and pulled me up. The updraft was so strong that I didn't need to flap. I circled around and around, gliding higher and higher into the sky, way above the three falcons below. They spotted me as I passed them, and began flapping hard to catch up to me, the ear-piercing shrieks and chrome weapons menacing me as they approached.

The chase was on.

Already I was at least a mile above the desert floor. I was panting hard, out of breath—but it wasn't the thin air that was causing this. Zane's serpentine grip on my body had gradually tightened the higher I flew. The poor guy was practically quivering from fright now, the tremors shaking all the way down his body. I nudged him with my beak, trying to reassure him; he stopped shaking, slightly.

I could tell that Zane was deathly acrophobic. Unfortunately there was nothing I could do to help him about it. For things were about to get a whole lot worse.

_Fasten your seatbelt, Zane. We're in for some chop._

The thermal was beginning to falter. Without warning, I folded my wings into my body, dipped my head into my breast, and plummeted toward the ground, angling past the surprised falcons, who abruptly changed course to follow me. Their heavy rifles were banging against their backs—good. Those things would slow the falcons down.

I angled my tail feathers; they caught the wind, and before long I was twisting in a dizzying corkscrew like a bullet from a sniper's rifle. The spinning let me cut through the sky. I was soon approaching and surpassing triple-digit speeds.

A scream echoed behind me. The peregrine. How had she caught up with me so quickly? I flared my wings and stopped my spinning, twisting myself so I was looking back up. The other two falcons were still high up, but the dark-feathered crow was nearly on me, her charcoal talons extended toward me.

_This ends now, Shardae!_ Her voice sounded telepathically in my head as she plunged for my exposed breast, where Zane was coiled.

_You and the cobra are meat._

Talons crashed against talons, sparks flashed wildly as we slashed and parried in the sky. I deflected her initial blow, but she instantly swung back again. I dodged the slice and countered with a thrust that she blocked. Screeching, she swung her wing around and buffeted me in the side of the head, sending my vision whirling. I latched onto her talons and spun her around, pecking and stabbing at her neck and face with my beak. We dueled like two tender lovers trading not-so-tender blows. I evaded one stab at my face and smacked her face aside when she tried again. I struck her hard beneath the eye while her guard was down, before letting go and twirling away from the stunned falcon. I pumped my wings and sped away to the north.

Suddenly I was virtually paralyzed. I struggled against constricting ropes of violet and red magic. My wings were locked to my body, my tail feathers crushed into a painful hold. I fell uncontrollably, the ground now rearing up close. I fought the magic to no avail. We were going to hit the earth and become a pile of crushed bird and snake pulp.

Zane lifted his head. He hissed, and then struck out at the bands of magic. His glistening fangs, dripping a sickly yellow-green poison, sank into the band around my throat. The magic burst into a stream of hissing steam that was immediately whisked away by the wind. He twisted himself around and attacked the rest of the magical bands. Within a few precious seconds he'd freed my wings. I flared them, trying desperately to slow our descent and level off. He loosened my tail feathers a hundred feet above the sand, allowing me to pull up and skim just feet above the dunes.

_What the hell? It can't be…_ I heard the peregrine curse in another language before I heard an angry scream. Flipping on my back, I saw her plunge at me head-on. Her head slammed into me, and I careened wildly out of control. She threw herself at me and slashed my back with her talons, tearing long, bloody gashes through feathers and flesh. I screamed in pain, feeling my flight muscles cringe with every wingbeat. I could hardly maintain stable flight now. She was on me again with her beak and talons, and it was all I could do to keep her from tearing my throat out. Dunes and boulders flashed past—if I hit the ground at these speeds, I was done.

Then the peregrine managed to swipe my protective wings away and clamp her razors around my throat. Talons pierced my skin as she strangled me. With her death grip on me, there was no way I could fight off the powerful falcon.

Like lightning, Zane struck. The poison I'd witnessed moments ago now pored forth in a flurry of strikes—in a span of a few seconds, Zane must've bitten the falcon at least a dozen times. She screeched in pain and broke off her hold. I shoved her off and powered off with all the strength I had left. A few seconds later I heard her plow into the sand as the neurotoxin poison ended her life.

I heard shouts from above. The other two falcons had shifted into their demi-forms and were now firing at me with their rifles. Bullets thudded into the sand around me as I frantically flew north. A bullet whizzed past my head. Another scraped my port wing, dislodging a primary. I panted hard, heat, exertion, and injury taking their toll on me.

Far off on the horizon, I glimpsed a line of green—the grasslands of avian lands. Beyond that, the silhouettes of skyscrapers still standing from the serpiente offensive. We were almost there….The falcons were several hundred feet behind me, the distance and unsteady airs throwing off their aim. My sleek full-form flew faster than any of their demi-forms. Maybe…just maybe…we could make it…

Zane hissed in my ear. He gestured with his head at a smoke plume a mile away. I focused my hazy hawk vision on the billowing dust. There, at the head of the cloud…a convoy! I spotted a few humvees, halftracks, and trucks driving on a dirt track toward us. I no longer cared that the drivers of those vehicles were serpiente soldiers. They were soldiers, and with Zane on board, they would surely defend us against the falcons.

Would they?

There was no time to wonder. I gasped, nearly blacking out as a bullet thudded into my lower back and pierced through my skin. My tail feathers went numb, and I soon lost stability. Flapping wildly, I dipped low toward the ground and banked toward the track, intending to land in front of the convoy. Ahead, I saw the vehicles slow; the drivers had spotted us. I pulled up my wings and skidded talon-first into the dirt track, simultaneously shifting into my human form. I felt Zane shift in my arms, and quickly let him down as he regained his human form. The humvees had stopped now, and their occupants were climbing out now—serpiente soldiers with tactical shotguns. They stood shocked as they saw their lost Arami standing before them.

Zane spoke to them breathlessly. "Behind us. Falcons. They're—"

Bullets ripped my back to pieces. I fell. Someone was dragging. There was so much gunfire, so many cracks and blasts. Were the serpiente firing back? Were they gunning down our pursuers?

"C'mon, Dani, I can't lose you now. Where's your medic?"

"Right here, sir. But, Zane, you—"

"Take care of Danica first, she's been shot!"

The gunfire faded away as I sank into a pair of cradling arms.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** You know what I'd always felt the Kiesha'ra series lacked? I always felt it lacked animal interactions with the shapeshifters' second forms. Despite the fact that the series focuses on people that are half-animal, the only significant times that the full animal forms are used are either in flight for the avians or in Wolfcry when Betia survived alone as a wolf.

Well, not only have I included more animal interactions in this story, I've also included animal combat! The harrowing scene where Danica duels the peregrine falcon was a fun one to write; it was like imagining two skydivers fencing while in freefall. Anyway, I feel that all of this adds a lost more action to this story. Action that I thought the original books sort of lacked...

As for what's coming up, well, our hawk and cobra are hardly out of the woods yet. There's a lot of drama coming up next, deadly and otherwise. Trust me...when bullets fly, things between characters always heat up.


End file.
